Freelancer to Hunter(Volume 2)
by GaryOkampo
Summary: He was motivated by honor and duty in order to do what was right. Then those motivations were tainted when he discovered a horrible truth and had lost faith in others. Yet with new bonds formed, his wounds healed. But with both new and old threats on the horizon, Washington must ask himself: Is he on the path of a huntsmen...or is he forever destined to be a soldier?
1. Best Day Ever?

**A/N: [CONNECTION ESTABLISHED]**

 **GaryOkampo logging on...**

 **It. Is. Here!**

 **Yes my faithful friends, you have asked and you have received. Here comes the second volume.**

 **Epsilon: 'Nuff said.**

 **Warning- I do not own Red-VS-Blue, RWBY, or any of the characters. All is property of Roosterteeth.**

* * *

 **Que: RVB OST- Fifty(by Trocadero)**

* * *

 _Journal Entry 101_

 _Subject: Recap_

 _I know it's been a long time since I've done one of these, so….let's get this over with._

 _It all started with Project Freelancer, a military organization that was more than it seemed. The men in charge were corrupt and the soldiers who followed them were blind, and just guess whose side I was on. I was just a naive agent at the time who simply followed orders like the rest. That is until a "fateful" incident occurred. When I finally learned the truth, my entire world shattered. The people closest to me suddenly became my enemies and I was forced to flee from my home. I thought I couldn't believe in anyone anymore. But then, I met a man named Ozpin; the headmaster of a huntsmen academy called "Beacon". He offered me two choices: go to prison...or enroll into his school. I figured this was my chance to start over, as long as I got to work alone._

 _Sadly, that didn't last._

 _I was assigned to teams RWBY and JNPR, eight "gifted" teenagers who had the skills and training, but lack any real-life experience. Obviously I was hesitant to the idea and we...struggled to get along. Even now I'm still getting used to this whole teammate/friends thing._

 _Call it superstition or paranoia, but I have a feeling that we're going to need each other more than ever._

* * *

 **End: RVB OST- Fifty(by Trocadero)**

* * *

 **City of Vale…**

 _BANG!_

Though the noise was muffled, anyone could tell that was the sound of a gunshot. With the fact that the very little people on the street didn't hear nor react to it, whoever pulled the trigger was either cunning or extremely lucky. The door to "Tukson's Book Trade" opened soon after, revealing a young man and woman leaving the establishment. The man, or rather boy since he was so young, had silver-gray hair and a similarly colored outfit with black greaves. The girl beside him had green hair and wore a surprisingly revealing outfit. Intel identified him as Mercury Black, the other was his partner, Emerald Sustrai.

The girl stretched her arms before looking at her co-hort, "What's with that?"

"Meh," Mercury shrugged as he continued to read the comic in his hand, "I like the pictures."

It was clear these two, despite their age, had no qualms with taking lives. That was what made them dangerous, as well as careless.

The two criminals casually walked away from the scene of the crime, failing to notice the figure watching them from the rooftops across the street. He was crouched low, in order to not be spotted by the two, though his armor did contrast with the black asphalt. Even if his organization and theirs have agreed to work together, there were still those who saw them as….untrustworthy. He touched the side of his helmet activating the silver visor to scan the two of them. Aside from the comic in the boy's hand, there was nothing else in their possession. The man sighed in disappointment, but then chuckled at their mistake. It was a clear sign that they went into the situation half-cocked. What'd you expect from children.

"It's me," he reported into the walkie-talkie attached to his right shoulder, "They don't have the package."

"..."

"Understood."

When the two of them eventually disappeared from his line of sight, he took it as his cue to clean up their mess. He stood up from his perch and began to stretch his own joints. Hands firmly placed at his hips as he marveled at the cityscape before flying into action.

Seeing a couple of teenagers with weapons enter a bookstore was strange, a fully armored soldier goes in soon after is just plain suspicious. He took a running start towards a cable that connected the rooftop he was on with the one across. As he leaped into the air, he used his pistol as a makeshift zipline until he rolled into his landing to keep his momentum. The stranger continued to vault over any chimneys or obstacles that stood in his path until his eyes laid on the ladder that led to the dumpsters behind the building. In one fluid motion, he vaulted over the railing and firmly planted his boots and gloves onto the sides and slid down till he reached the concrete.

Now he stood behind the back-door, a quick jerk at the knob revealing it was locked. Nothing that a good lock-pick wouldn't fix. Most would argue that kicking the door down was easier and much faster, but the man excelled at infiltration and stealth. Brute force just wasn't his style. Besides, he would finish by the time they would raise their boot.

The door slowly opened with a rusty creak, revealing the dimly lit back room. Four rows of shelves faced the double-doors that were swinging above a trail of crimson liquid. The man's eyes followed the path into the middle row of the shelves where he could hear the sounds of painful grunts. Clearly the traitor is quite skilled at playing dead. The soldier walked through the aisle parallel to the blood trail, knowing that he will soon cut him off. His eyes absently glanced at the hundreds of books that lined the shelves. Proof that the shop truly lived up to it's name, however the man wasn't here for a good read.

He eventually stood at the end of the middle row with his long shadow casting over the bleeding Faunus. The traitor was on his stomach, a hole in his chest and a pool of his own blood continuing to expand. Tukson just stared at the soldier in front him, looking over his navy blue armor. His expression transformed from worry to panic when he saw him reach for something behind his waist. The weapon quickly unfolded itself until it transformed into it's tomahawk form, the blade shining under the lamp light.

"Why hello there," the soldier cheerfully greeted.

The former White Fang's pants grew hoarse as he looked up at the assailant.

"My name is Butch Flowers. And this," the blue freelancer motioned towards his weapon, "Is my friend."

In one downward swipe….Tukson's Book Trade was put out of business.

* * *

Peaceful was the perfect word that described the atmosphere within the forest. Green leaves were falling from the branches and harmlessly onto the ground. Squirrels would innocently gather the nuts around them. However, their animal senses quickly picked-up the sounds of a creature that could squish them like insects. They only scurried away at the last second before meeting that fate.

The beowolf snarled as he ran through the forest, running for it's life as it toppled every tree and bush in it's path. It could only look back and see if it was still on the run. The pursuer was close, using his agility to evade any obstacles that blocked his way. The Grimm tackled a nearby tree, hoping to block the hunter's pursuit. Though it proved fruitless as he quickly vaulted over it and ran through the thicket. He had reached a clearing where his prey had somehow disappeared. Only a pair of prints in the center of the mud was his only clue. And the eerie silence enclosing them.

The huntsman-in-training traced the outline with his gloved hand.

"Deep impression," Wash scanned his surroundings for the Grimm, "It leapt into the trees in order to lose us. You getting anything?"

A sapphire hologram appeared above his shoulder, taking the form of a soldier in military armor of the same color.

" _I'm programmed to fight people remember?_ " Epsilon replied rather frustrated, " _I track electronic signatures, not soul-less monsters._ "

Wash quickly turned his head when the sounds of leaves fell to the ground, "I don't like it. Staying out here in the open like this."

" _Good advice,_ " the A.I.F. quipped, " _You don't happen to have thermal vision goggles do ya?_ "

"No. I don't," the ex-Freelancer deadpanned, but then had an idea, "But I do have something else."

He flexed his left hand and placed it in the middle of the beowolf's print. He closed his eyes and focused his mind in order to pull off this technique. A whitish gray light began to outline his body as everything around him started to become more….clear. The sounds of leaves striking the ground, twigs cracking under someone's foot, and the snarls of a beowolf. Make that beo _wolves_.

"I count five of them," Wash reported, "Three in the tree-line and two in the bushes."

" _How can you be sure?_ "

The former Gulch soldier aimed his rifle towards the tree in front of him and fired a burst from his battle rifle. Birds flew away from the noise, along with the beowolf that fell onto the dirt…a bullet-hole between it's eyes.

" _Show off,_ " Epsilon grumbled.

The creatures of Grimm immediately leapt from their hiding places in order to surround their target. Demanding revenge for their fallen pack brother.

Wash slowly backed away, aiming his weapon at each monster to at least frighten them to back off. It was only temporary as the Grimm drew closer and closer.

" _Great. Now we've got four angry beowolves who want to tear **your** guts out and drink out of **your** skull like a soup bowl,_ " Epsilon looked around worried.

A booming thud resonated behind the ex-Freelancer and the fragment. Both looked back to find a beowolf much more taller than rest and with sharper teeth that were meant to tear off skin.

" _Okay scratch that,_ " the sapphire A.I.F. deadpanned, " _Four angry beowolves **and** an alpha that want to kill you. Any ideas?_ "

"Just one," Wash simply took out a spike grenade.

Epsilon looked at the hand-held explosive, "...Bet you can't stick it."

The huntsman-trainee pulled the pin at the challenge, "You're on."

One of the beowolves leaped forward but was then met with three rounds to the chest and then one to the head. The body skidded forward which Wash leaped over and threw the grenade. The bladed sides were firmly planted into one of the grimm's eyes, exploding soon after. Another made a swipe with it's claws which Wash evaded with a dodge-roll. A few blasts from his battle rifle caused the creature to fall back stunned which gave Wash enough time to kick it to the ground. Another round to the skull for good measure.

" _On your left!_ " Epsilon warned.

But it was too late as Wash felt himself flying through the air and into a tree trunk. The ex-Freelancer quickly shook himself out of his daze and saw the remaining monsters prepare to attack. Wash pulled another spike grenade and planted it into the trunk behind him when he saw one of the Grimm charge. He used the handle to pull himself up just before the beowolf's skull collided with the hardwood, leaving a small crater in the tree. He then rolled off the monster's back and cleared the blast area before the explosion killed the Grimm.

The eight-foot-tall Grimm was the only one left standing as it encircled it's prey. Snarls emanated from it's fangs before charging towards the huntsman-trainee, fully prepared to tear him to shreds. It did a low swipe with it's claws which Wash dove over to avoid it's path. The alpha beowolf prepared to slash again but was met with the rifle-butt striking it's bone-like mask. Wash used that moment as his chance to quickly draw his magnum and fire it point blank between it's glowing red eyes.

The beast fell onto the ground with a thud, the body disintegrating like it's pack surrounding it.

" _Good job,_ " Epsilon appeared next to his partner, bringing up different screens as he made calculations, " _Sure there were a few bumps, but you killed them all. And you didn't lose your weapon this time._ "

"I should have been able to detect that alpha," Wash holstered his sidearm and flexed his hand, "Let's do it again, try to get the hang of this Aura thing."

" _And you will, but you need a break._ "

"I can still keep going," the huntsman trainee jerked his head.

" _We've done this three times already,_ " Epsilon then brought up a screen displaying his partner's health and the time, " _Besides, the others are waiting in the cafeteria._ "

"Just one more-."

" _Wash,_ " the sapphire A.I.F.'s tone hardened.

"...Okay," he rubbed his eyes to wipe away the exhaustion, "I could use a break."

" _There we go,_ " Epsilon snapped his fingers.

The corpses and environment transformed into pixels before they collapsed into the floor. Soon the forest was replaced with the metal and concrete walls of the amphitheater. As if no signs or evidence of a battle just recently took place.

"So," Wash looked at his holographic partner, "What's for lunch?"

* * *

Changing out of his combat attire and into his school uniform was simple enough. It was the walk towards the cafeteria that was the hard part. Wash fervently scanned his surroundings, keeping track of every little thing. So far he had mostly seen Beacon students and a couple of the exchange students from the other kingdoms. Most of them ignored his presence, but he still noticed the ones who were either brave or bold enough to whisper behind his back. It was understandable since he had gained a bit of a reputation. The mysterious student who never showed his face, being the only times he ever "expressed" himself was when he slammed a student's face into his lunch and sending another to the hospital after nearly beating him to death. Granted that both of his victims were school thugs, you couldn't blame the others to be a bit cautious around him. Of course none of this bothered the ex-Freelancer.

It was another group of students he was concerned about.

" _Is it me Wash,_ " Epsilon mentally asked him, " _Or have you become even more paranoid after the others knows who we are?_ "

"Just because we made peace with them, doesn't mean we're still fugitives," Wash looked off into the distance, "And we have to be careful now more than ever."

" _Normally I would say that you're being overly suspicious or just being an asshole. But,_ " the A.I.F. followed his gaze.

Both Gulch natives stared at the two Gulch military hover-carriers stationed at Beacon's airdock. Though Wash was surprised that there hasn't been much improvements to the ship's design since he left. He had Epsilon make scans of the layout the second they landed and so far it wasn't that different from the "Mother of Invention". The only changes was that it's computer systems were more updated and the anti-aircraft guns and weapon were newer models. Once you were chosen as it's target, you're already dead.

Something the ex-Freelancer obviously wanted to avoid.

"... _I guess you're sort of right._ "

"Let's just get inside before they spot us."

After finally arriving, Wash was greeted by a fully packed mess hall. Much to his chagrin. Of course it wasn't that hard to find his table of friends. Weiss, Blake, and Yang were sitting at one table while Jaune and his team were sitting at the one parallel to them. Currently Nora was flinging grapes with a spoon towards Yang who successfully caught each of them with her mouth.

The blonde huntress spotted their ninth member and happily waved him over.

"Sup Wash," Yang greeted.

"Hey," the ex-Freelancer replied with an exhausted sigh as he took a seat across from them.

"What's wrong with you?" Blake asked.

"Nothing," he grabbed a chicken nugget from the tray in front him, ignoring Weiss' protest, "Just….a little tired."

" _He means that he's been trying to keep a low profile,_ " Epsilon appeared on the table.

"From what?" Yang looked at him worried.

The doors to the cafeteria were slammed open, grabbing everyone's attention. Standing in the doorway were three Gulch huntsmen-recruits. Everyone had there apprehensive gazes locked onto the group of armored soldiers as they too looked over the faces of the students. Both were the first of their kind to make eye contact in years. Though the Beacon students were unable to look through the Gulch students' visors. Eventually they made their way to the cafeteria line with the students getting out of their path. Wash, especially, lowered the bill of his ballcap so that they wouldn't notice him. No one said anything as they silently grabbed their food, paid for it, and left.

As soon as the doors were closed, the Beacon students murmured to each other over what had just occurred until the volume in the cafeteria returned to normal.

"From them," Wash finally answered.

" _Ever since the Gulch students showed up,_ " Epsilon explained, " _Wash has been more on edge as if the Meta just enrolled into the school. Seriously, he's checks his locks six times and sleeps with his pistol next to his bed_ ," the A.I.F. glanced at his partner, " _That's unhealthy….and kinda creepy._ "

"I think you should see a professional," Weiss stated boldly.

"That's too bad," Wash dryly chuckled, "My old job had great mental health coverage."

"Well at least you got a sense of humor," Yang stated at her friend with straight face, but then asked, "Hey do you mind me asking?"

"About what?"

"What's with the whole 'armor' thing?"

"What do you mean?" Wash took a quick bite of the nugget, "Soldiers are supposed to wear armor."

"Yeah, but all the time?" Weiss asked this time, "Nobody has seen their faces, not even once."

"And have you seen the way they talk to each other," Yang added, "It looks like a bunch of helmets moving up and down."

"Well wearing the armor often is normal," Wash swallowed his nugget before continuing, "It helped so much during the Great War that it sort of became our uniform. We're trained to wear it for extended periods of time since we'll never know when there will be another mission or how long it'll last. Even I had trouble getting used to not having my entire body covered in at least kevlar the first time around."

"Is that why your attire resembles your armor?" Blake questioned.

"More or less," Wash shrugged, taking a sip from the soda he bought.

Yang looked at the former soldier with a smirk, "But don't you ever feel like you just want to, ya know….take it off?"

The ex-freelancer frowned at the attempted double-entendre, "It's not like we wear it twenty-four-seven, we've got clothes for formal events and those with higher ranks usually don't wear their armor."

"Then what about the color scheme," Yang leaned back slightly, trying to take in what she just heard, "I'm no military expert but I'm sure red, blue, or even orange doesn't make the best camouflage."

"We have a standard set for trainees and regular grunts. But with the improvements in technology and different companies making new armor sets, a lot of the younger soldiers got….rebellious. They say it helps make them unique and so many recruits adopted the idea that the military eventually allowed it. To an extent."

"So you picked your own colors too?"

"Yeah, after we graduate from the academy, the class goes to the armory to customize their loadout."

"Huh," Yang's face then had a look of pride on it.

"W-What?" Wash looked at the fellow blonde confused.

"This is the first time we've had an actual chat with you," she smiled, "Usually you stay on the side lines and be all mopey."

"Since when am I mopey!?" the ex-Freelancer blushed.

" _You mean besides every other hour?_ " Epsilon sarcastically asked.

Yang chuckled at Wash's embarrassed expression. She was glad that he had lighten up these past few days. With them now knowing about his past, he has been less distant to the group. He still found it difficult to talk about his time at Project Freelancer, and only she knew more than the others. Even so, the ex-Freelancer was growing to be a real member of the team.

 _WHAM!_

Everyone suddenly turned their heads towards the massive white binder that landed at the end of the table. The mere size and amount of pages would put the thickest encylopedia to shame. On the cover was a label with the title "Vytal Festival Activities: Property of Weiss Schnee". Though the text was crossed out with red marker and was given a new name below it.

Epsilon teleported onto the cover and read, " _'Best Day Ever Activities'?_ "

The sound of someone dramatically clearing their throat had brought everyone's attention towards their team leader.

Ruby announced and motioned to the different people at the tables, "Sisters! Friends! Weiss."

"Hey!" the heiress whined.

"Four score and seven minutes ago: I. Had. A dream!"

"This ought to be good," Yang glanced at her partner before catching a raspberry.

Ruby simply continued, "A dream that one day where all of us, as a team, come together and have the most fun anyone's ever had….EVER!"

"Did you steal my binder?" Weiss glared, ignoring her crimson partner's antics.

Ruby responded by making peace signs with both hands and stated, "I am not a crook."

"What are you talking about?" Blake asked, slightly curious.

"I'm talking about kicking off the semester with a bang!" the scythe-wielder pointed at the Faunus.

"Oh no," Wash pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"I always like to start off my semesters with a _Yang_ ," the blonde boxer quipped.

The two teams immediately lowered their heads and/or groaned at another of her puns.

"Eh? Guys?" Yang looked at the others to see their reaction, "Am I right?"

"BOOOoooo!" Nora shouted, throwing an apple that lightly bumped off the blonde's face, earning the hammer girl an annoyed glare.

Ruby resumed explaining her plans for the team, "Look guys, it's been a good two weeks and between more exchange students arriving and the tournament at the end of the year, our second semester is going to be great! But, classes start back up tomorrow," her voice then becomes more cheerful, "Which is why I've taken the time to schedule a series of wonderful events for us today."

Weiss looked at her partner skeptically, "I don't know if I should be proud or scared of what you have in store for us."

" _How about worried?_ " Epsilon appeared in front of the heiress, " _Worried seems like a good middle ground._ "

Yang, not paying attention to the conversation, throws her own apple which Wash marginally tilts his head to dodge it. Apparently she missed since he heard a random student complain when he suddenly felt a fruit strike the back of his head.

"I don't know," Blake looked at her teammates, "I think….I think I might sit this one out."

"Sit out or not," Weiss, surprisingly, agreed with her team leader, "I think that however we spend this last day. We should do it as a team."

Wash then noticed Yang was fervently waving her hands as she tried to stop Nora from doing something.

The heiress didn't seem to notice as she stood up and continued, "I for one think-."

She was then abruptly interrupted by a pie landing on her face. The members of team RWBY and the former freelancer looked towards the guilty party who hurriedly returned to her seat and pointed towards her partner Ren, his face buried into the palm of his hand. Wash and Epsilon glanced back and forth between the two teams. One thing that caught their attention was a certain heiress' expression, covered in whipped cream….and a twitchy eye.

" _Um…,_ " the A.I.F. glanced at Wash, " _You might wanna take cover._ "

* * *

 **5 Seconds Later...**

* * *

The moment of retaliation was the moment she started laughing maniacally. Which everyone knew was the time to drop what they were doing and run. Beacon students frantically tried to escape the mess hall as they fully understood what happens when the infamous Nora Valkyrie finds something fun to do. Atop her pile of tables, she overlooked the disorganized eating area with a smile.

"AHAHAHAHA!" the hammer girl began to sing, "I'm queen of the castle~. I'm queen of the castle~."

Ruby then stomps onto an overturned table and dramatically pointed, "Justice will be swift! Justice will be painful!" she crushed the milk carton in her hand, spraying it's contents everywhere, "IT WILL BE **DELICIOUS**!"

The rest of her teammates rallied behind her, "YEAH!"

As the food started flying, Washington dove back behind the table he was using for cover.

" _What the hell are you doing man!?_ " Epsilon asked excitedly, " _Jump on in!_ "

"I prefer keeping my uniform clean," the ex-Freelancer deadpanned.

" _You're no fun,_ " the A.I.F. huffed before he vanished.

"Hey Wash!"

The huntsman-trainee in question turned his head and found a familiar monkey faunus dive right next to him.

"Sun?"

"The one and only," he smirked.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was planning to introduce everyone to my friend," Sun motioned to a young man with blue hair next to him, "Neptune. Wash. Wash. Neptune."

"Sup," he greeted.

Wash only nodded.

"So what's going on here?" Sun looked over the edge of the table.

"Isn't it obvious," Wash examined what looked more like a food "war" rather than a food "fight".

"Looks fun, aren't you joining?"

"No thanks," he rolled his eyes, "Besides I don't think food fights are supposed to be this…."

The ex-Freelancer motioned towards the sight of Ruby cradling an unconscious Weiss who was thrown into a pillar.

"Weiss, Weiss!" the red huntress acted as if her partner just died, "Don't leave me!"

The pillar crumbled behind them, emphasizing the "heart-breaking" scene before the three viewers.

"NOOOOO!" Ruby dramatically cried before dropping the heiress to the ground and rejoin the others.

"...Intense," Wash finished his comment.

"Pffft," Sun absentmindedly waved his hand, "Why let that stop you? Come on man, haven't you been in a food fight before?"

"I have," the ex-Freelancer protested, "It's just…."

* * *

 **Many years ago….**

 _Carolina stood in the doorway of the mess hall with an aura of anger and disappointment surrounding her….but mostly anger. A-squad's leader looked over what was once a clean and organized mess hall, but had become a culinary warzone. Foods of different kinds were scattered about along with a fair amount sticking to the walls and even the ceiling. In the center were those responsible. North and South were on one side of the room, taking cover behind a flipped table as they threw what looked like mashed potatoes at the "enemy". York and Wash stood behind some pillars, the tan freelancer holding a banana like a pistol and the rookie with pudding cups. Eventually, all four of them froze when they saw their CO with her hands balled on her waist and looking very un-happy._

 _"What. Is going on. Here?" Carolina growled, her patience thinning fast._

 _"Uuuhhh," York nervously laughed, "It's probably what it looks like."_

 _"Wash started it!" South pointed an accusing finger._

 _"What!?" the young agent shrieked, "No I didn't!"_

 _"Twenty laps around the airfield!" the cyan freelancer ordered._

 _"But Boss-."_

 _"Twenty laps and two-hundred pushups for every set," Carolina added to their punishment, "NOW!"_

 _"But-!"_

 _"NOWWWWWW!"_

* * *

 **Present Day….**

"Let's just say the punishment isn't worth it," Wash shuddered at the memory.

"...You are one cryptic dude," Sun blankly stated, "You know that, right?"

"Uh, guys," Neptune asked the others to get their attention, "Is it me….or is there a draft?"

Both the ex-Freelancer and Faunus delinquent looked at the man confused until they too started to feel it. They began to feel the air pushing against their faces until a flash of red rocketed passed them.

"Woah!" Sun tried to follow, "What the-!"

"Oh no," Wash looked in horror.

The three young men's faces paled when they saw what was in front of them. It was an impossible phenomena, but there it was, a whirlwind of food and sodas heading straight towards them.

"Get down!" Wash yelled as he ducked behind the table.

Sun did the same, assuming Neptune followed suit.

For five seconds it was as if a hurricane was occurring inside the cafeteria. The three huntsmen-trainees could hear plates and utensils clatter against any and every hard surface, along with the splatters of delectables. Soon the wind died down and they looked over the carnage. Both the tables and benches were pushed to the side with dishes either chipped or shattered throughout the hall.

And where was the food?

At the far end of the room was could only be described as a massive poster of everyone's spoiled and mangled lunch. That also just so happened to have four human-sized outlines in the center.

Wash looked on with more awe than horror at the aftermath. He couldn't help but wonder if this is what is considered a "normal" encounter to foreigners. Or maybe this was how teams RWBY and JNPR made things more exciting.

Sun looked at his partner with a smile on his face, "I love these guys."

Neptune simply had a frown on his face, angered that his freshly cleaned outfit and stylized blue hair were now covered in what looked like grape-juice.

"It's going to take some time to clean this up," Wash sighed, knowing that somehow he'll be dragged into this.

" _Well at least none of the staff is here,_ " Epsilon mentally stated with confidence.

The double doors to the mess hall were slammed open again and in came Professor Goodwitch, teeth gritted and growling in annoyance. She even had that same look that Carolina had when she caught Wash in his first food fight.

" _And I spoke too soon._ "

The huntress stomped past the three onlookers and immediately waved her riding crop. The sound of what seemed like a bell resonated throughout the room as tables, chairs, utensils, and anything else that lay scattered; was lifted telepathically and placed back where they originally were. In a matter of seconds the cafeteria was back to normal. Minus the food on the walls, the floor, the hole in the ceiling, and the students dressed in stained uniforms.

"Children," Goodwitch pushed up her glasses threateningly, "Might I ask why there was a crater in the wall."

The perpetrators either looked away nervously or whistled trying to play innocent. Nora casually belching and a certain blonde falling through the roof didn't help their situation.

"Washington," the mage-huntress growled through her teeth.

"Y-Yes ma'm," the ex-Freelancer straightened his body as if he was ordered by his CO.

"I demand an explanation."

Wash quickly stepped forward, "Well, you see this all-WOAH!"

His vision went blurry, if only briefly, when he felt his body make contact with the tiled floor. He quickly shook his head and found Goodwitch staring down at him more enraged than ever. A confused expression was on the huntsman-trainee's face until he could hear snickering behind the professor. His teammates were trying to suppress their laughter, Nora too, though she looked like she was going to burst at any second. Wash stared at them confused until he saw a banana peel lying comfortably atop the mage-huntress' head.

"Holy shit dude!" Sun hunched over laughing, "You slipped on a banana peel, I didn't think that was-!"

It only took one look from Goodwitch to make the monkey Faunus shut-up and stand straight.

"I think we've all had our fill of flying food for one day," a new voice entered the room.

Everyone turned towards the entrance and saw Headmaster Ozpin with a smile on his face.

"Professor Ozpin," Goodwitch quickly swatted away the banana peel, "I was just about to deliver a week's worth of detention."

Both teams groaned at the sound of their punishment. Beacon's headmaster looked over his student's distraught faces and motioned his assistant to come to him. Wash propped himself up when he saw a hand reach out for him.

"You okay?" Yang smirked.

The ex-freelancer shook his head and accepted the gesture, "I think I should be asking you that. Did you really just fly through the roof and back down without so much as a scratch?"

"Hey," the blonde confidently dusted herself off, "I'm tougher than I look."

"That can't be normal," he scoffed.

"Says the guy with a computer program installed into his brain," Yang tapped the side of her head.

"Neither is using turkeys as boxing gloves," Wash argued with his own smirk, crossing his arms.

"Now you gotta admit," the blonde boxer smugly placed her hands behind her head, " _That_ was pretty cool."

The two friends heard a frustrated groan and saw Professor Goodwitch storm off out of the cafeteria. Ozpin had a victorious smile on his face and approached the group of students.

"I've worked things out with Goodwitch," he announced to them, "None of you will be getting detention."

They all let out a cheer until-.

"However," the headmaster quickly interrupted, "I saved you from detention, but that doesn't mean you go off unpunished," he then pointed towards the kitchen area, "You'll find mops and buckets over there."

A mixture of frustrated "aww"s and whines emanated from the two teams as they begun their assignment.

Wash was about to walk off too until he heard Ozpin call his name, "Washington, may I speak to you for a moment?"

The ex-freelancer nodded when he and the headmaster were the only ones left.

"Is something the matter?" the ex-freelancer asked.

"Just a curiosity really," Ozpin narrowed his eyes, "Why didn't you join in with them?"

Wash sighed when he heard the question for the third time, "I think I'm a bit old to do food fights."

The headmaster chuckled at his response, "Come now. You sound like you are in your late thirties rather than a teenager."

Wash frowned at the joke.

"You know, despite your experiences, you yourself are still a child," Ozpin lectured.

"I came here to be huntsmen….like my teammates," the ex-Freelancer scoffed, "Not play around."

"True," the headmaster nodded, "But there is no harm in having fun once in awhile. Remember, I said that was the only the first step."

Wash stared at the man confused until he remembered, "...Regaining my humanity."

"And that means embracing who you are."

There was a brief silence between them until Ozpin decided to take his leave, but not before lending one last piece of advice.

"Make sure you help them out with the clean-up," he ordered, not even looking back, "After all, a good friend should always be ready to lend a hand."

When the doors were closed, Wash found himself staring at them for quite some time.

Epsilon then formed on his shoulder, " _What'd you think he meant by that?_ "

"...No idea."

* * *

 **The warehouse district….**

During an alliance, it is important that there be some semblance of trust. Or at least pretend too. That was the mission the Director assigned him: stay on their newfound allies good side by whatever means….for now. Yet it seems Project Freelancer is not the only one who was having trust issues. Agent Florida had to stay in the shadows of the warehouse, making sure not to be noticed by the White Fang soldiers who were hard at work. He had no qualms working with them. Orders _are_ orders. However, only a select few of the faunus extremists knew that they were allied with the ones who killed many of their members. Even so, it was best to play along as one of the foreign mercenaries they've hired.

The blue freelancer kneeled atop a shipping crate while observing what seemed to be fighting amongst the ranks. Emerald and Mercury had returned only a few minutes ago and they were already butting heads with Roman Torchwick, their supplier. Apparently the two young criminals took it upon themselves to take care of Tukson the turncoat. But Roman is the kind of man who doesn't like being kept in the dark, as well as being lectured by some arrogant street kids.

"I had that under control," the infamous criminal growled.

Mercury stated back with confidence, "Two packed bags and a ticket out of Vale said otherwise."

"Listen here you little punk!" Roman jabbed his finger, "If it were up to me, I would take you and your little street rat friend and I would-!"

"Do _what_ , Roman?"

Her voice echoed throughout the building causing the three, Florida guessed he would call them her "lieutenants", to freeze up. The sounds of her heels colliding against metal revealed that she strode on the catwalk above them and onto a lift that lowered her to the ground. Everyone just continued to look at the woman with a mixture of fear and respect.

Roman nervously chuckled, "I'd….uhm….not kill them?"

The way he reacted showed that he was the only one who feared her. It was fascinating at how much power she carried despite her age.

"Cinder!" Emerald eagerly approached her idol.

However the dust witch coldly brushed her off, continuing her approach on Roman, "I thought I made it clear for you to eliminate the would-be runaway."

"I was going to….," the criminal "mastermind" tried to come up with an excuse.

"He was going to leave for Vacuo!" Emerald quickly interjected, "Mercury and I took it upon ourselves to kill the rat."

"I think he was some kind of cat actually," her partner corrected.

"What?" she laughed, "Like a puma?"

"Yeah, that," Mercury shrugged.

"Quiet!" Cinder glared at the two of them, "Did I not specifically tell you two to keep your hands clean while in Vale?"

Unbeknownst to her that Roman was taunting the two kids who were being lectured.

Emerald anxiously scratched the top her head, trying to hide behind her bangs, "I just thought-."

"Don't think," the dust witch cut her off, "Obey."

"...Yes ma'm," she apologized, "It won't happen again."

"Did you at least take back the equipment he stole?" Cinder asked.

"Umm," Emerald nervously glanced at Mercury who was similarly confused, "What equipment?"

It was here that Cinder's expression darkened, "Don't tell me," her heels clicked against the floor as she dangerously strode towards them, "That you not only disobeyed my orders, went out in broad daylight, killed a man, left the scene of the crime, came back here," her eyes then glowed threateningly, "And you didn't even try to cover it up!"

The two young killers nervously took a step back. It seemed now was a good time to fulfill his objective.

"Ahem," Florida cleared his throat in order to announce himself to the room.

He leaped down from his perch, grabbing everyone's attention, "Now now. There's no need to be mad at the kids."

"Agent Florida," Cinder narrowed her eyes at the blue freelancer, "Finally decided to join us I see."

Her eyes were still glowing, perhaps that was what revealed his position. Either that or the woman had keen instincts.

"Have you come here empty handed as well?" she asked again.

"Quite the opposite actually," Flowers approached her, unafraid of the woman in front of him.

He then took out the healing unit, bowing his head and body as if he was giving her a bouquet.

Cinder stared at the strange gesture, but eventually took the equipment, "Where did you find this?"

"In the backroom of the shop," he reported, "Apparently Tucson, that little rascal, was also part possum. I found him crawling towards the cupboard where he stashed it."

"Was he now?" the dust witch glanced back at her two subordinates, another failure added to their list.

"Rest assured, I took care of it," Florida calmly raised his hands, "Finished him off and made it look like a hate crime. That should get you some more….'enlistees'."

"Why thank you," Cinder smirked, "Glad to see their is at least someone capable of getting results."

The blue freelancer briefly saw the annoyed growls emanating from Emerald. She didn't seem the kind of girl you would find amongst these kind of people. Mercury most likely, but her? The young thief had no qualms with taking a life, but there was still that flicker of innocence in her eyes, even if it was just a smudge. It was almost kind of cute whenever she got angry.

"Which now brings me to my next complaint," Cinder then looked back at Roman, "Why wasn't this job done sooner?"

"Uuuhhmm," the infamous criminal scoffed, "Eh?" he motioned at a small pile of boxes, "Uh?" then to a rack of another set of boxes, "UHHHHH!?" he then dramatically spread his arms, showing the shipping crates behind him….all filled with Dust.

"Sorry~," Roman let out a sarcastic apology, "But I've been little busy robbing every spec of Dust in the kingdom."

Mercury replied with sarcastic praise, "You're an inspiration to every thief who wears stockings on their heads."

"To be fair," Agent Florida approached Roman and put a hand on his shoulder, "Not just anyone can pull off jobs like these. Especially in the span of a few weeks."

"I like this guy," the infamous criminal pointed with his cane and looked at everyone with a confident smile, "Because of me I've got this town running scared, police are spread thin, Dust prices at an all time high, and….," he turned towards the spoils from each of his heists, "We're sitting in an abandoned warehouse with more Dust crystals, vials, and rounds than we know what to do with."

"Speaking of which," Roman looked back at his employers, "If you wouldn't mind filling me in on your grand master plan, it might make my next jobs go a little smoother."

The last words were stated with clenched fists and a bitter tone. The man was still frustrated over failing the past mission that was foiled by the killer mute.

"Oh Roman, have a little faith," Cinder walked towards him with feigned sincerity before she lightly traced his jawline with her fingers, "You'll know what you need when you _need_ to know."

Florida could see the way her eyes glowed an undeterminable gaze covered by a smile. Though one word could describe that look perfectly: dangerous.

Roman reluctantly huffed in compliance.

"Besides," her eyes returned to normal, "We're done with Dust."

The criminal looked at her confused, "Okay, so what now?"

"We're moving," she commanded, walking towards the entrance as she absentmindedly handed Mercury the healing unit, "Have the White Fang clear out this building. I'll send you details and coordinates tonight."

"Coordinates?"

Cinder looked at her underlings with a smile, "We're proceeding to phase two."

She walked off with Mercury, Emerald, and Florida at her heel. Roman just stared at the woman, feeling that a quick smoke was the break he needed. He looked through his pockets until he realized his favorite lighter was gone. The familiar sound of it igniting brought his attention towards Emerald as she immaturely stuck her tongue at him.

"Emerald!" Cinder ordered the girl to follow.

The master thief did so after tossing back the lighter to an annoyed Roman.

"I want you and Mercury to make the final preparations and wait for me at the dropship."

"What about you?" she asked.

"Agent Florida and I…," the dust witch glanced at the freelancer, "Have some things to discuss."

Emerald casted an obviously disgruntled glare towards the foreign agent.

"I expect you to obey me this time," Cinder narrowed her eyes, not even needing the glow to send the message.

"...Yes ma'm," she hesitantly bowed.

When the two finally made it to the dropship, both parties could finally get down to business.

"Honestly," Cinder let out frustrated sigh, "Give them a gun and suddenly they think they can take on the whole world."

"That's teenagers for you," Flowers defended the two kids, "Hormones and firepower usually don't mix well."

"I sometimes wish that they grow up already, but onto more important things," she placed two fingers on her temple, fighting the urge to rub it before looking at the freelancer, "Where is the Director?"

Florida could feel his body tense under his armor when he heard the question. This was the time when the friendly neighbor facade takes a break.

"I'm sorry, but he has moved to a new location," he replied, "It's classified."

"Really now? I was afraid your Director had run off after that….what did you call him?" Cinder placed a finger on her chin, acting like she had forgotten, "The 'Meta', is it? After he thwarted the heist at the docks, he and your superior then disappear off the map soon after," a look of suspicion then covered her face, "And then you come in a few days later as a 'liaison' between our organizations."

"He is a busy man," Florida placed his hands on his hips, not even bothered by her questioning, "We still provide military assistance and new prototypes. And rest assured, our best agent is tracking down the Meta as we speak."

"That is good to hear, though forgive me for having a lack of faith," a knowing smile appeared, "From what I hear….there aren't that many of you left."

The blue freelancer chuckled, "You make it sound like we're a dying race."

"It seems fitting," Cinder turned away and walked towards an open crate, glancing over the Dust crystals that were neatly packed, "Your country may be isolated, but I've heard my fair share of stories about you and your people," her hand glided over the many different colored shards, "They say every citizen is required to serve in the military. Some say it only lasts a few years, others say it's indefinite, or until you die. Makes no difference to me, an army is only as powerful as it's numbers. But," she grabbed a turquoise crystal and held it up in the moonlight, "It's the unique ones that interest me. The ones who shine brighter than the pebbles who surround them. Soldiers like you freelancers."

Florida narrowed his eyes under his visor. The woman was truly an enigma; her goals, her ideals, a part of him even started to doubt if Cinder was even her real name. He couldn't really describe it. There was just something about her aura. Not that light show whenever she used her powers, but the atmosphere that surrounded her. A "predatory élégance" is what he called it. It was something he respected, yet also made him cautious.

"The Director will ensure Project Freelancer holds up it's end of the bargain," the blue freelancer assured her, trying to stay on topic, "Provided you hold up yours."

"But of course," Cinder placed the crystal back where it was, "Even so, as a sign of good faith. Can you relay a message to your superior for me?"

"And what would that be?"

"Some words of advice," she looked back at him with a devious smile, "Don't make a girl a promise….if you know you can't keep it."

Florida's eyes widened when he heard the famous saying.

"H-How do you-?"

"Like I said before Agent Florida," she returned to the dropship where the others are waiting for her, "I've heard my fair share of stories."

The blue freelancer looked up as the ship fly into the night sky, thankful that his helmet was covering his shocked expression. He was starting to understand why Project Freelancer didn't fully trust this woman. She wasn't just dangerous….but a complete mystery.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you all enjoy this holiday gift and expect more upon the new year. Checkout my other stories and let me know what you think in a** **review.**

 **Epsilon-Merry Christmas to all!**

 **Santa-And to all a good night...you feeble human creatures.**

 **Dammit! Just how many more of you are there!?**

 **GaryOkampo logging off...**

 **[CONNECTION TERMINATED]**


	2. Uninvited Welcomes

**A/N:[CONNECTION ESTABLISHED]**

 **GaryOkampo logging on...**

 **A quick announcement. It pains me to say, but I have removed one of stories off the site. I was too hasty to publish "Clones and Withes of the 501st" and failed to realize that it was still incomplete. Rest assured, I'll put it back on at a later time when it's ready.**

 **Epsilon: May the force be with you.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Now enough of the bad news, here is another chapter.**

* * *

 _Journal Entry 102_

 _Subject: Beacon_

 _Like other institutes around the world, Beacon is tasked with training the planet's future huntsmen and huntresses. However my first impression of the academy was less than positive. Perhaps it was my upbringing, but this place looks more like some rich kid's school rather than an academy to train warriors. It's hard to believe that most of the students here, who are also around my age, range from trained to professional fighters. They are given the best in everything, from the quality of their teachings to even the food they eat. Most of the time..."Meatloaf Day" is up for debate._

 _But in these peaceful times, most of the students enroll because they believed it would be more "fun" than going to regular school. That is what makes Beacon different from Project Freelancer. Despite the unique curriculum, it is at the forefront...a school. A school filled with students who are trained to fight against the evils of the world. But sometimes people forget that._

 _And that's what worries me the most._

* * *

As headmaster to a huntsmen academy, politics have a more prominent role than most realize. There were students coming from foreign lands who have important ties. As well as the occasional councilman supporting huntsmen efforts in exchange for political backing. Yes, life as a headmaster was more than just looking over transcripts and paperwork. It was something Ozpin grew to accept but also found entirely bothersome. Even if he didn't show it, he would try to maintain the appearance of the wise mentor. However, he could use a cup of coffee right about now.

Now that the general has arrived.

"Ironwood seems to like taking his _work_ wherever he travels," Glynda stated bitterly, seeming to agree with his current mindset.

"Well….," Ozpin looked over the airships flying over and the three carriers stationed in front of his school, "Running an academy and a military makes him a busy man."

Exactly five minutes after they showed up in their airspace; Beacon's headmaster received a panicked and enraged call from "Infinity", Gulch's Huntsman academy. Both the students and the staff were shocked to find what was basically an army fly in above them. It took a large amount of assurance that there was nothing to worry about and they were _not_ led into a trap. Thankfully they accepted his answer, but still reported the incident to their heads of state.

Not a good start to international integration.

"But yes," Ozpin agreed with his loyal subordinate, "Those are becoming a bit of an eyesore."

The veteran huntsman was not enthusiastic with the idea of soldiers seemingly preparing for battle right in front of his students. And in a growing political powder-keg no less. Of course he should have expected as much coming from him. Though he would often wish that James would learn a little restraint.

 _Beep Beep!_

Ozpin turned away from his viewpoint towards the elevator where his guest was waiting.

"Come in."

The doors slid open and out stepped James Ironwood, dressed in his usual military uniform. A veteran huntsman like himself, academy headmaster(also like him), and a general in the world's strongest military power. Now THAT is the key difference.

"Ozpin!" James happily greeted.

"General," Beacon's headmaster replied rather formally.

"Please," he laughed off his occupation, "Let's drop the titles."

Even with their different views, Ozpin still saw themselves as close friends.

"It's been too long," the general shook his hand, "And Glynda," he turned towards the huntress, "It has certainly been too long since we last met."

"Oh James," she acerbically waved to him, but then instantly stated to Ozpin, "I'll be outside."

The man had to fight back the urge to snicker at Glynda's brief rejection.

James' own grin, however, showed that he wasn't even the least bothered, "Well she hasn't changed."

"So…" Ozpin walked towards his desk, wanting to get straight to business, "What in the world has brought you down here from Atlas?" he grabbed the coffee pitcher and poured it into an extra cup, "Headmasters usually don't accompany their students to the Vytal Festival."

James accepted the offering, "Well you know how much I love Vale this time of year," he grabbed a flask from his coat pocket and poured into his drink, "Besides...with you hosting, I thought this would be a good time for us to 'catch up'."

His phrasing of the last two words was an obvious message as to his reasons for being here.

"I can certainly appreciate quality time between friends," Ozpin feigned ignorance when pouring his own cup, "However, the small fleet outside my window has me somewhat concerned."

"Well, _concern_ is what brought them here," the general's brow furrowed.

The headmaster continued to play innocent, "I understand it has become increasingly difficult to travel between the-."

"Oz," James stared at the man, deciding to become fully serious, "You and I both know _why_ I brought those men."

Ozpin took a quick sip from his mug before sighing in slight frustration. A part of him seemed to regret that James was part of their little circle. He always had that personality of facing the threat head-on. Handy when things were dire, but not before then.

"We are in a time of peace," the veteran huntsman lectured, "Shows of power of like this," he motioned towards the ships outside, "Are just going to give off the wrong impression."

"But if what Qrow said is true-"

"If what Qrow said is true, then we will handle it tactfully," Ozpin leaned forward with his fingers intertwined, "It's the Vytal Festival; a time to celebrate unity and peace."

The general just stared at him incredulously, as if the man in front of him had no sense of danger.

"So I suggest you not scare people by transporting weapons and soldiers halfway across the continent," Ozpin's eyes narrowed at his longtime friend, "Especially when we currently have guests over."

"My apologies," James placed his cup on the desk as he marched towards the window, looking down at the two docked hover-carriers, "Though I'm surprised that Gulch sent only two ships over."

"Remember that they have only recently opened their borders, so they are being cautious," Ozpin took a sip from his coffee, "That and they don't make grand entries."

"It still bothers me to this day," the general placed his hands behind his back, "How could such a small nation fend off a stronger military force?"

The veteran huntsman froze for a brief second before taking another sip, "You'd be surprised how hard an animal can bite when cornered."

"Without the assistance of dust no less," his hand moved under his chin while pondering over multiple possibilities, "Just what did they have up for their sleave?"

"James," Ozpin deadpanned at his colleague, "You're doing the stare again."

"Wha-!?" the general's eyes widened until he realized what he was talking about, "Oh, forgive me," he rubbed the back of his head, "I've just been thinking about a lot of things. First Gulch decides to negotiate opening it's borders to the kingdoms. And a few days later, you take a freelancer into custody."

Ozpin looked away, staring into a corner of the room as he maintained his composure.

"Are you sure you should give him so much freedom, he's an agent of-."

" _Ex_ -agent," he pointed out, "And if I believed that Washington had ulterior motives, than I wouldn't have allowed him to enroll into my school in the first place. Even if he is truly a spy, why would he give away his comrades' locations?"

James sighed through his nostrils, "Speaking of which, we've acquired some early prototypes from the the warehouses he's revealed….if we're lucky," the general's eyes narrowed, "However most of the time they turn up empty."

"That is to be expected," Ozpin tapped the sides of his mug, "Project Freelancer wouldn't want their property to fall into enemy hands."

"I suppose you're right. If he really is keeping to his word," James crossed his arms, "Then perhaps a school isn't the best place for him to be."

Beacon's headmaster placed the mug on his desk, knowing that this was leading somewhere, "And what would you suggest?"

"Let me take custody of him," the general placed a hand on his chest, "My men can provide better protection for him in Atlas."

"No," the veteran huntsman shook his head, "Surrounding him with so much security will only draw attention to him."

"But it can be a deterrent!" the Atlesian general fervently retorted, "Project Freelancer is just some rogue unit. They wouldn't dare risk taking on the world's strongest military."

"Washington is already a student at my school," Ozpin placed his fingertips against each other, "He has already made meaningful relationships with his teammates. Moving him now will only cause his distrust of others to grow."

"But has he really?" the general walked forward, looking down at him, "From what I've heard, he isn't the most sociable of people….and that there already was an attempt on his life."

Ozpin tightened his jaw when he heard the mention of the incident, "In the past yes, but Washington has strived to become more open. He is starting to act more than the soldier and weapon he was trained to be. As for security," the veteran huntsman grabbed his mug off the desk, "He is already in capable hands."

James stared at the man with an undeterminable gaze until he walked back to the elevator with a smirk, "You always seem to find the good in things."

"Sometimes it is often best to have faith," Ozpin's eyes followed the general.

"But ask yourself this," the general looked back before the doors closed behind him, "Do you honestly have faith that your _children_ can win a war?"

The veteran huntsman said nothing until he saw his friend be enveloped by the elevator.

"...I hope they never have to," he finally answered.

Ozpin's mind replayed the conversation. Not only was James adamant about adding this extra security, but it seems he wanted to enlist the ex-Freelancer into his special operatives unit. Of course it was his and James' combined efforts that were able to smuggle Washington into Vale. Perhaps he wanted equal opportunity with the young lad. Beacon's headmaster inwardly chuckled at the thought. They were almost like two parents fighting over the custody of their child. If that's the case, then Ozpin was determined to make sure that Washington would become more than just another soldier or huntsmen. Which brings him to his next meeting.

He sighed to himself before turning towards the dark corner, "You can come out now."

The sound of equipment deactivating revealed the armored figure stepping out of the shadows as her body de-cloaked.

"Sharp instincts," Tex stated rather impressed, "Most wouldn't notice me until I snapped their necks."

"Well sadly I'm not like most of your victims," Ozpin smirked at the black freelancer, "How goes your search for the Director?"

"Empty," she huffed in frustration, "Haven't found a solid lead in weeks."

"A clue will turn up eventually," the headmaster gave a reassuring smile, "I take it you heard our little conversation."

"What do you think?" Tex crossed her arms, "Your 'friend' is a prick."

"He tends to come off a little strong," Ozpin chuckled, "But he means well."

"But he does have a point," the black armored soldier brought her hands to her hips, "Washington has to be moved."

"So you suggest taking him with you then?" he leaned back into his chair, "On the run."

"A lot better than letting him stay here. The Meta almost killed him and you know he's going to try again."

"If I didn't know any better," Beacon's headmaster twisted his chair towards the rogue-soldier, "I'd say that you're worried about him."

"Pfff~," Tex jerked her head away at the assumption, "As if I care about that wimp. It what's in his head that's important, sadly that includes keeping him alive."

Ozpin's gaze softened, along with the disapproving frown forming on his face, "Why are you doing this to yourself Tex?"

"Doing what?" the black-freelancer jerked her head.

"This," Beacon's headmaster motioned at her armored form, "This violent reaction at the very notion of forming a meaningful connection."

"Don't psychoanalyze me Ozpin," Tex jabbed her finger, "I've had enough of people trying to understand and decide what's best for me."

"Washington has made friends since starting his time here. Surely you can-."

"Don't give me that whole 'magic of friendship' bullshit," Tex took a threatening step forward, "His situation and mine are completely different!"

"...Allison."

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" she roared with fury, but soon returned to a neutral stance to calm herself, "That's not my name. Not anymore."

The room was quiet as Ozpin patiently waited for the rogue-freelancer's anger to finally dissipate. Despite her protests, she and Washington do bare a sort of resemblance to each other. Though one has begun to move on, while the other found purpose in their past.

"I'm going to look for some new leads," Tex approached an open window, "I'll pick him up when I get back."

"You are welcome to try," Beacon's headmaster stated, "But know that the choice ultimately falls to him."

The rogue-freelancer stared back at him through her golden visor before leaping out the window. The act of a young woman, even though she was fully-armored, falling into a drop hundreds of feet above concrete; didn't bother Ozpin in the slightest. No doubt that was the least dangerous thing Tex had done in her military career.

Instead, Beacon's headmaster decided to savor another sip from his mug. But noticed the absence of the caffeine laced drink against his lips. He looked into his empty cup and was surprised to have finished one so quickly. He was about to grab the pitcher to pour another until he received another notification from his console.

"OZPIN!" one of the council members shouted through his desk's speakers.

No doubt they too wanted to know the reason why there was a sudden appearance of a fleet above the city. Ozpin looked at the pitcher filled with his only saving grace, and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. He was going to need more than two cups to make it through today.

* * *

To be a soldier in Gulch is to be expected, however it isn't the kind of life everyone wishes to be. During and even after the Great War ended, citizens were required to serve a minimum of three years in the armed forces. Whether they decided to stay or leave after their time of service is entirely up to them. Yet over the years the number of soldiers remaining in the army has dropped steadily. Many of them saw no point in dying an early death rather than pursuing their passions.

Vanessa Kimball was one such person.

She enlisted like the rest of her people, did her duty as her nation's protector, and neared the end of her required amount of patriotism. Kimball constantly told herself then she would retire and be what she wanted to be. Yet it seemed she was "too good" at being a soldier. As the days went on, she had worked her way up to an officer. As well as being the kind of leader that gained the respect of the men and women under her command. Soon the needs of her unit outweighed her own, so her dreams were pushed to the back of her mind.

Now, because of her merits, she was assigned to be one of the new instructors at "Infinity". The idea of Gulch forming an academy that trained warriors her people considered enemies obviously met it's fair share of resistance. But certain people considered these were times of change and the country needed to resemble their neighbors. Even so, she took pride in fulfilling her role as both a commanding officer and teacher to the first Gulch huntsmen and huntresses. She would even risk her own life if it meant bringing honor to this new unit.

However pride was not flowing through her veins, but rather frustration and confusion as she marched towards the general's quarters on "Chorus I". The soldiers guarding the entrance stood at attention when they saw her approach them, immediately recognizing her rank and armor.

"I need to speak to General Doyle," she stated to the troops.

The one on her left nodded and pressed the console closest to him, signaling the general that he had a visitor. Both troopers crisply turned to the side with salutes as she walked passed them. The doors quickly closed behind her and allowing Kimball to look around Doyle's quarters.

She had been there a few times and each time the place annoyed her. The office was a standard layout for a commanding officer. An interactive screen was on the right wall with the door to his private quarters next to it. A coffee table and a couple of chairs for diplomatic meetings was laid out in front of her. Then finally his desk was on the far left, equipped with a holographic projector.

However, these were the only things that were provided by the military. The rest belonged to the general. A book case was under the screen, filled with hard-cover books about literature or history. The table stood atop some fancy rug that gave Kimball a headache whenever she looked at it. An expensive tea set was on his desk, along with some big and fancy chair that seemingly symbolized his commanding position. To top it all off, the sounds of classical music echoed throughout the room that seemed to make her current headache grow worse.

Kimball had to fight the urge gag at the man's sense of taste and focused more on the general's back as he looked through the lengthy window towards Vale's huntsmen academy.

* * *

 **Que: RVB OST- Vanessa**

* * *

She clicked the heels of her metal boots together to get his attention, "Lt. General Vanessa Kimball reporting SIR!"

She made sure to place extra emphasis on the last word to remind him of his rank. Despite her expectations, General Doyle squawked when he heard someone interrupt his afternoon "tea time", almost dropping the cup in his hand. He quickly turned and saw his second in command standing at attention with a salute.

"Ah, Vanessa," he moved to his desk to put down his cup and turn off the music, "Forgive me for not noticing you," he then sat in his chair as he placed his helmet back on, "At ease-and-what-not, please sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No thank you sir," she stood in front of him in a mildly formal stance, "I'd rather stand."

"Well...suit yourself," Doyle shrugged before he repositioned himself to be more comfortable.

Kimball was thankful that her helmet covered her rolling eyes. The man was clearly displaying his noble heritage, he or his family probably paid his way up the ranks. Yet it seemed at times he enjoyed playing school headmaster rather than a general.

"Now," Doyle leaned onto his desk, "How can I help you?"

"Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"But of course," he waved off her formal attitude, "There is no need to worry about ranks in here."

"Thank you sir," she took a deep breath before speaking, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?"

Doyle curled in his chair when he suddenly heard the outburst, "Um….pardon?"

"We have an enemy fleet literally above our heads, soldiers and androids on the ground, and yet you told my men and my ship to hold position!?"

"Now, Vanessa," the general cleared his throat, regaining his composure, "Let's take a deep breath here and try again. This time less….angry."

The Lt. General did as her commanding officer ordered and took a breath between her nostrils before speaking, "General Doyle, I would like to know why we haven't taken off yet?"

"Ah yes, that," he intertwined his gloved fingers, "I've spoken with Professor Ozpin and he insists that there is nothing to worry about."

"Three Atlas carriers are nothing?" Kimball frowned under her helmet.

"He said that it was just security for the Vytal festival as well as bringing some new students from Atlas," the Gulch general then pointed out, "He also assured me that it was _not_ a trap."

"Really~?" Kimball asked again, having little faith in the foreign headmaster.

"Well you can't suggest we just suddenly up-and-leave?" Doyle gasped, "Do you know how the academy will look!?"

She grumbled at how he listed his priorities, "At least allow me to increase security around the ships and send a warning to-."

"I've already notified command of our situation," the general interrupted with a raise of his hand, "There is nothing else we can do."

"You can't be serious?"

"Vanessa," the Lt. General's eye twitched at how casually he said her name, "Our mission is not just to participate in this age old tradition, but also a diplomatic one," he motioned towards Beacon academy, "Times are changing for Gulch I'm afraid. We can't afford to treat everything as an act of war. If we do as you suggest and reinforce our defenses in retaliation to these 'threats', it simply shows we are still not ready. And in the case something were to happen, do you honestly think we can break through this blockade?"

"If we put in everything we have, there's chance we will make it."

"Along with suffering heavy casualties," General Doyle stood from his chair and walked towards his second-in-command, "I respect your courageousness to protect our people, but we have our orders."

Kimball was quiet as she looked into his small visor. She couldn't believe the lack of a sense of danger Doyle had. But then again, he was also right. They were a newly formed and _experimental_ unit. Suddenly turning tail and run just because of suspicions will not help their situation. Neither is dying in a raging inferno because of it.

"I understand," she nodded in compliance.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll issue an announcement to the entire staff and student body and let them know of these new visitors."

Kimball's eyes suddenly widened in surprise, "Thank you sir."

"Think nothing of it. I am the headmaster of this school after all," he tugged on his chest plate, "As the great Master Chief once said, 'courage is not the absence of fear, but the will to act in spite of it'," he stated proudly, "Such inspiring words."

"...Um sir?" the Lt. general corrected, "I don't think the chief said that."

Doyle tilted his head surprised rather than confused, "Wait, really?"

"I'm sure."

"Oh, I see," he stared downward guiltily.

"...But," Kimball continued, "It's still a good quote sir."

"Thank you," no doubt he was smiling under that one-eyed bucket.

"Actually, I think I'll take you up on that tea offer."

"Splendid," Doyle clapped his hands together, "Let me go pour you a cup."

Kimball sighed when the general turned his back on her and looked out towards Beacon academy. Sometimes her more militaristic style blinds her from certain views. Maybe there was a legitimate reason why Doyle was made the "headmaster" of Infinity. Though he still had a long way to go in order to earn her respect.

* * *

 **End: RVB OST- Vanessa**

* * *

 **A/N: There you have it folks, two more characters from RVB in the world of Remnant. For** **those of you who keep asking-.**

 **Epsilon:*cough*demanding*cough***

 **For those who keep ASKING, I am leaning towards putting more of the Blood Gulch Crew into the story. How they will affect the plot is yet to be determined.**

 **Stay tuned to find out.**

 **Delta:Read and Review**

 **GaryOkampo logging off...**

 **[CONNECTION TERMINATED]**


	3. All Work and No Play

**A/N:[CONNECTION ESTABLISHED]**

 **GaryOkampo logging on...**

 **Happy New Year folks! And what better way to** **start 2016 than with a new chapter for this story.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

 _Journal Entry 103_

 _Subject: Gulch & Remnant_

 _History is often one of the subjects people tend to brush off the most. But growing up in Gulch, it comes up **quite** a lot. At a young age we are taught that the outside world, the kingdoms especially, are a dangerous place to be. Menagerie was a country inhabited by people more beastly than the Faunus. Vacuo was home to a barbaric people. Huntsmen were to have said to infuse the power of Grimm within them through "mystical" means. Of course like many Gulch children, I believed **and** grew out of the fairy tales. It's not racism, mind you, it's more out of caution._

 _...No._

 _I guess it's more like paranoia. And I would be kidding myself if I didn't embrace the fact that we have some "overly-cautious" people back home._

 _It wasn't until I stepped on foreign soil for the first time that I realized that Gulch wasn't the "perfect" home I thought it was. We're not a great military power….just a small nation in a very big world. Who somehow got luck on their side._

* * *

Contrary to his now peaceful lifestyle, Washington was still a student. Which meant that he had to study and there is no better place to study than in a library. And what better time to prepare for tests than to have a group study session among friends. Well….almost.

"Yang Xiao Long!" Ruby challenged her older sibling, "Prepare your kingdom for battle!"

"Bring it on!" the fiery blonde replied with equal vigor.

"I deploy," the red huntress-in-training dramatically raised her card, "The ATLESIAN AIR FLEEEEETT!"

Yang let out a fake gasp in return.

Wash had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at how seriously they were taking this game.

At first the nine of them were preparing for upcoming exams like they planned. That is until Ruby got bored and decided to play a game. She figured since the clean-up after their food fight yesterday put off what activities she had in mind, team RWBY's leader thought it would be a great bonding experience to play a board game. Everyone else soon decided to do their own thing.

Wash decided to take a break from his notes to see what everyone was doing. Ren was probably the only one still studying as he continued to read from a massive book while Nora was at his side sleeping, mumbling to herself about pancakes. Jaune was reading the latest issue of a comic he's been reading. Something about two idiots trying to be heroes….that was probably the appeal. Pyrrha was looking over a textbook and noticed her partner's reading material. The Mistral champion quickly confiscated the single issue and replaced it with a hardcover about the history of swordplay. Wash was glad at least some of them still cared about their education, but instantly frowned when Pyrrha decided to read the comic herself.

The ex-Freelancer could see plastic pieces from the board game flying over the table as Yang happily tortured Ruby by narrating her army destroying Atlas. He still found it strange that there would be a game with it's main goal to be world domination. Then again, what was considered "games" back in Gulch were paint-projectile matches or capture-the-flag tournaments. Grifball seemed to be the only thing that wasn't military themed. What else to expect from a nation that focused entirely on preparing for war.

Wash let out a sigh in order to clear his thoughts about home. He knows he can't go back, probably never step foot on his home soil again. Though if he did, what could he do? He'd either be arrested on the spot or shot on sight.

There he was again...still overthinking things.

The ex-freelancer looked around their table to see how the "battle for Remnant" was fairing. Ruby was on his left, lying on the table as she sobbed at how much she had lost to her sister. Weiss, on the right, was just looking at her cards confused as Yang explained what each one can do. Blake on the other hand, was completely detached from the game. She was simply staring into space, not even paying attention to her teammates. Then again he was doing the same.

Wash glanced down at what pieces were in front of him. The game advertises that it "realistically" reflects the kingdom's strengths and weaknesses, as it says on the box. Of course they never considered the smaller countries to have their own assets. Though the girls were kind enough to lent him some of their pieces so that he could be part of the game. However the Gulch native had serious doubts that his country would have so little assets. Each plastic soldier represented a battalion and there were only three. He had only two airships and a handful of fighter planes. This didn't even come close to Gulch's military might.

" _Realistic my ass_ ," Wash's eyes narrowed at the small army, " _As if anyone takes this so seriously._ "

"Mwahahaha," Weiss stood up from her chair after Yang gave her a strategy to take over the world, "Yes! Fear the almighty power of my forces! Cower as they pillage your homes and weep as they take your children from your very arms!"

" _Maybe too seriously,_ " Wash raised an eyebrow at the "villainess" monologue.

With the troops in front of him, being at a disadvantage couldn't even describe someone in his position. Then again….he wasn't the one actually playing.

" _Hold it!_ " a certain sapphire hologram interrupted.

"Huh?" Weiss looked at Epsilon confused.

" _See, while Yang was kicking Ruby's ass,_ " the sapphire A.I.F. explained as he marched on the board.

"Hey!" the red huntress-trainee whined.

" _I snuck my troops into Vacuo and destroyed your key fuel refinery,_ " Epsilon pointed at the plastic piece on enemy kingdom's "soil", before confidently crossing his arms, " _Now you have an army that can't even move._ "

"I hate this game of emotions we play," the heiress cried into her seat as she realized her chance for victory was instantly taken away.

"Stay strong Weiss," Ruby, similarly in tears, jumped into her partner's lap and wrapped her arms around Weiss' neck, "We'll get through this together."

"Shut-up! Don't touch me!" the heiress protested, yet hugged her friend for comfort anyway.

"Nice~!" Yang gave the A.I.F. a thumbs up.

Epsilon returned the gesture, " _I just ran the numbers._ "

"You're getting faster," Wash complimented.

" _It's a board-game that simulates world conflict,_ " he shrugged, " _It ain't rocket science._ "

"Alright Blake," Yang looked at her partner, "You're up."

"Huh!?" the cat-faunus jumped out of her thoughts, "Oh….um….Sorry, what are we doing again?"

"You're playing as Vale, trying to take over the kingdoms of Remnant," the blonde explained.

" _Just so you know. I'm in the lead,_ " Epsilon butted in.

"Right," Blake hesitantly looked at her cards

"Hey," Jaune approached the table, "Can I play?"

Ruby apologized to the blonde knight, "Sorry Jaune, we're already stretching the number of players."

"Besides," Weiss added, "This game requires a certain level of tactical cunning that I seriously doubt that you possess."

" _Says the girl who attacked her own naval fleet,_ " Epsilon stated in a smug posture.

The heiress growled at the sapphire A.I.F.

"Bring it on Ice Queen!" Jaune challenged her, "I'll have you know that some people consider me a natural born leader."

"By who?" Weiss snickered at his vain attempt of impressing her, "Your mother?"

"A-And Pyrrha."

"Hello again," the Mistral champion chirped to the group.

Feeling desperate, Jaune clasped his hands together, "Come on, let me play your hand for a turn."

"I'm not trusting you with the future of Vacuo," Weiss inched away with her cards.

"Why not? You've trusted me with way more important stuff before. I mean, you told us all that Blake is secretly a Fa-."

" _Fun_ -loving person!" Pyrrha instantly dashed out of her chair to cover the knight's mouth, "Whom we all admire and respect."

Everyone then turned to the cat faunus and saw the obviously annoyed glare on her face. Even if it has been a few weeks, she still isn't happy about everyone knowing her true heritage and troubled past. It was something Wash could relate to.

"Right. That," Jaune nervously rubbed the back of his head, realizing it was pointless.

" _Smooth,_ " Epsilon deadpanned, but looked back before disappearing, " _Thank god we've got company._ "

Wash rolled his eyes under his sunglasses. Ever since his teammates accepted them into their group, Epsilon has grown to be quite "chummy" with them. He wasn't against the idea, but the ex-Freelancer was worried with him appearing out in public more often. Thankfully the A.I.F. takes the necessary precautions to not be noticed.

"Sup losers," a familiar monkey-faunus happily greeted everybody.

"Hey Sun," Ruby replied.

"Ruby, Yang, Blake, Wash, ice queen."

"Why does everyone keep calling me that!?" Weiss whined.

"Technically only two people have called you that," Wash pointed out which earned him a frown from the heiress.

Sun just continued his introduction, "I never got the chance to show off my old friend."

"Uhh, aren't libraries for studying?" the blue-haired huntsman asked.

"THANK YOU!" Ren shouted from afar, glad that someone agreed with him.

Nora followed with a snort after finishing her nap, "Gah pancakes!"

Everyone looked at the pink girl questioningly. Just how much did she love that stuff?

"Shut-up don't be a nerd," Sun ordered his friend.

"Geh geh geh," Neptune pointed out, "I'm an 'intellectual', okay?" he then waved to everyone, "Names' Neptune."

"So Neptune," Weiss asked, "Where are you from?"

"Haven," the blue-haired huntsman answered as he approached her, "And I don't think I got your name, snow angel."

"U-Um, I'm Weiss," the heiress smiled with a slight blush on her face.

"Are you kidding me!?" Jaune grumbled to himself.

" _Heh, poor Jaune,_ " Epsilon telepathically commented on the situation, " _He used the same pick up lines for weeks and got rejected in no second flat. And suddenly comes in a new guy doing the exact same thing, only this time it works._ "

" _I'm not sure if that's a good thing,_ " Wash replied.

"Pleasure to meet you," Neptune nodded with a victorious grin on his face.

"I never took you for the board game playing type," Sun looked at Blake's cards, trying to do the same with her.

" _Twenty lien that she says no,_ " Epsilon snickered.

" _Sadly our budget doesn't cover that,_ " Wash mentally deadpanned, " _And no gambling._ "

" _Buzzkill._ "

"Actually," Blake brushed off the monkey faunus' attempt at conversation, "I think I'm done for today. I'll see you guys later."

The library became quiet as everyone watched her walk away, confused at Blake's strange attitude of late. However Wash had a more knowing look than the others. Out of everyone on the team, Blake was the second-most experienced in "how" the world works. A girl like her can't help but worry about the possibilities now that she knows that people like Project Freelancer are out there. Even more so that you are working with an ex-affiliated member whose job just so happened to be hunting down your former comrades.

"Woman," Nora simply stated to the group with a shrug.

"So~," Neptune tried to break-up the awkward tension, "Whatcha girls playing?"

"We're playing 'Remnant: The Game'," Ruby dramatically swiped her hand through the air, "Four nations locked in combat, determined to become the sole ruler of the world."

"Really? That's my favorite game, " he smirked as he looked over the board, "But I thought the max players was four?"

"It is," the scythe-wielder motioned towards the ex-Freelancer, "But we lent some pieces to Wash so he can play."

"So I'm guessing those pieces are yours," Neptune glanced at the small army, "Man, playing as Gulch? You must have really drawn the short straw."

Wash glared under his sunglasses, "Excuse me?"

"You know, I've read that Gulch is technologically behind the rest of the world," the blue-haired huntsman lectured.

Both Yang and Ruby looked between Neptune and the secretly Gulch native worriedly as he continued to unintentionally insult their friend's homeland.

"Sure they invented some pretty cool stuff, but there's no way they can take over Remnant."

" _Oh. Oh he did **NOT** just say that!_ " Epsilon shouted in the ex-Freelancer's mind.

" _Calm down,_ " Wash tried to maintain his composure, " _He just doesn't know what he's talking about._ "

" _This asshole is insulting our home, you can't let him get away with that!_ "

" _So you want me to challenge him? Fight for my country's honor while possibly revealing where I'm from?_ "

" _It's not like you're going to tell him you were a Freelancer,_ " the A.I.F. sounded rather excited, " _We're just going to play a little game AND KICK HIS ASS!_ "

" _Alright alright,_ " Wash outwardly cringed, " _If it makes you finally shut-up._ "

"Hey," Neptune leaned towards Weiss, "Is your friend okay?"

"Him? Oh he's fine," Yang waved off the suspicion, "He just gets….headaches time and again."

"Okay~?" the Haven citizen tilted his head.

"It's nothing," Wash massaged his temple, "Since Blake left, do you wanna play?"

"You don't mind?"

"No," he gave an uncharacteristic smile, "We don't mind, right?"

"Sure, why not," Ruby shrugged, slightly confused at Wash's change in demeanor.

"Prepare to be defeated!" Yang clenched her fists.

Weiss simply huffed in frustration in order to hide her smile.

"Well in that case," Neptune sat in Blake's now vacant seat, "May the best kingdom win."

" _Satisfied?_ " the Gulch native asked his virtual partner.

" _We have so got this,_ " Epsilon stated confidently.

* * *

 **3 Hours later….**

* * *

" _WHY!? WHY THE **FUCK**! DID YOU LOSE!?_ " Epsilon shouted.

"Would you quiet down," Wash growled at the hologram floating next to him as they walked towards their room, "Do you want the whole dorm to hear you?"

The ex-Freelancer had decided he had enough "fun" for today and decided to leave the library. Just a while ago the battle for Remnant resumed, with Neptune quickly turning the tide. Ruby and Weiss' kingdoms were the first to fall(again); Yang had put up a decent fight, but eventually lost her territories. The Gulch native stood as the only resistance to the "leader" of Vale's world conquest. The war went on for some turns, but Wash eventually lost like the others, much to Epsilon's frustration. In the end Vale now stood as the dominant force on the gameboard.

Being as competitive, and stubborn, as she was; Yang challenged Neptune to a rematch which the others happily agreed. Wash, who was feeling much like Blake, decided to call it a day and be the next one to leave the group. Now here he was in empty hallways, forced to listen to his partner's complaining.

" _I'm sorry, but I'm just having a hard time believing that you let that guy beat you,_ " the sapphire A.I.F. exasperated, " _You should have attacked his HQ like I said while he focused on taking out your ports._ "

"I had to focus on defending those locations with the troops we had," the ex-freelancer replied, "In case you haven't noticed, our army wasn't that big to begin with."

" _Those designers need to get their facts straight,_ " Epsilon huffed.

"What's done is done," Wash massaged his strained neck from staring down too long, "No need to get mad over a game."

" _I guess you're right,_ " the A.I.F. sighed, but then decided to move onto a another topic, " _...Hey, do you miss it?_ "

"What?"

" _Gulch,_ " Epsilon clarified, " _You've been feeling down a lot lately, and I mean...more so than usual._ "

Wash let out a strained smile, "Usually I would say no, but I can't really hide anything from you. Can I?"

" _Being surgically attached to your neck and below your cerebellum has it's perks,_ " Epsilon snickered.

"Fine, I guess I am feeling a little….homesick," Wash's hands clenched at his sides, "But I have to be realistic, neither of us can go back. Gulch isn't our home anymore. It's enemy territory."

" _Then what about after we bring down Project Freelancer?_ " Epsilon questioned as he resumed his walk, " _We can go back then, visit-._ "

"Everyone there thinks I'm dead. And even if this all blows over, the second my feet touch their soil, I'll be sentenced to life imprisonment in a straight jacket," the Gulch native stopped to take a deep breath through his nostrils and then out his mouth, before turning to his A.I.F. companion, "Look, can we just drop this for now. Surprisingly, talking about why I can't go home is not helping me."

" _Hey,_ " Epsilon mockingly raised his hands, " _You're the one whose being all gloomy about it. I'm happy with our life here._ "

"Then why do you care?" Wash narrowed his eyes

" _Because-,_ " the A.I.F. froze for a brief moment, " _Someone's coming. A Gulch soldier._ "

Wash could feel his muscles tense when he could hear the familiar sounds of armored boots against the floor. The pace was slow, meaning the person was trying to use stealth, though terribly so since he was projecting his presence. Either way, a threat was approaching. Possibilities ran through his head as he got into a stance ready for close-quarter-combat. Perhaps it was one of the freelancers who infiltrated school, an authoritative figure who discovered his location, or worse….the Meta. The ex-Freelancer's heart began to race as the steps grew louder.

"Sneaking. Sneaking. Sneaking…."

Wash raised a brow at the strange chant. Why would an assassin reveal his position like that?

It wasn't until the "assassin" stepped out of the shadows that he finally understood what he is dealing with. In front of him is a Gulch huntsman-trainee in solid blue body armor. Though what made this scene strange is that suit was Mark VI, while the helmet itself was Mark V. Even more so that the blue soldier continued narrating his actions as he clumsily tip-toed through the hall.

"Sneaking. Sneaking. Sneak-."

The Gulch-trainee stopped a couple of feet in front of Wash when he realized he wasn't alone.

"Hello," he happily waved at the ex-Freelancer.

"Um, hi?" Wash nervously returned the gesture.

"Are you looking for cookies too?"

"...What?" Wash tilted his head confused.

"I ASKED IF YOUR ARE LOOKING FOR COOKIES!?" the blue-armored soldier yelled.

The ex-Freelancer covered his ears until the stranger finished, "Uhhh, no. But I think the dining hall is still open," he pointed behind himself, "You'll probably find some there."

"Why thank you mister nice man," the Gulch huntsman-trainee nodded, "Oh! Don't tell anyone I was here."

Wash just glanced around nervously, "Why?"

The blue-armored soldier looked at his left and right and between his legs before he brought his hand up to cover one side of where his mouth would be.

"I don't wanna make Santa's naughty list," he whispered rather loudly.

There was an awkward feeling forming in Wash's gut. This kid was supposed to be a future Gulch huntsman? How hell did the military even let him in? Either that or the standards for enlistment had dropped since he left.

"...Okay~," the ex-freelancer looked around, hoping that someone was out there to get him out of this, "Well, good luck."

"And another thing," the blue soldier continued, "If you see a man who likes to grope, tell him Caboose was not here."

"Right, got it," Wash gave a hesitant thumbs up.

The soldier called Caboose then resumed his mission of finding a midnight snack, "Sneaking. Sneaking. Sneaking."

Wash's eyes could only stare at the strange kid in front of him until he rounded the corner.

"It's the other way," the ex-Freelancer pointed to the left hall.

"Sneaking sneaking," Caboose walked in a crouched position in the opposite direction.

" _...Well,_ " Epsilon appeared when it was finally the two of them in the hallway again, " _As Yang would say it, 'That was a thing'._ "

"Yeah," Wash deadpanned.

"..."

"..."

"Let's just go to bed."

" _Good idea._ "

* * *

 **A/N: Now I know some of you "hardcore" fans are going to argue how the board game is supposed to be played, I just read the description on the wiki. On another note, I've been letting out a lot of chapters because I've had a lot of time on my hands. But there is no definite update schedule with the new year coming and more longer chapters.**

 **On the bright side, the first character from the Blood Gulch Crew has appeared in this story.**

 **Epsilon: Never fear. There are more to come.**

 **Please leave a review and let me know what you think.**

 **GaryOkampo logging off...**

 **[CONNECTION TERMINATED]**


	4. Off the Books I

_Journal Entry 104_

 _Subject: Team RWBY_

 _I haven't seen the group in actual combat. So my conclusions are drawn from classes, sparring sessions, and my own interactions with all of the team's members._

 _Ruby tends to act like a girl her age; and by that I mean doing fairly well in her studies,_ _ **but**_ _focuses more on tending to her weapon or reading about them. Weiss Schnee often plays as the team's secondary strategist, however she sometimes argues that she should have been made the leader. In my opinion though, she lacks the same amount of "maturity" as her partner. As for Blake….well if I were to classify her into a military role then she would be considered one of those wetwork specialists used for stealth ops. Though due to her troubled past with the White Fang, she tends to have a darker view on the world. Thankfully she's partnered with Yang, the sort of "emotional support" for the team. She takes pride in looking after Ruby, her little sister, as well as having fun with friends. Though her idea of fun varies from terrible puns to causing property damage(either by accident or on purpose)._

 _ **Note: Never EVER leave scroll out in the open, she will most likely try to read it**_

 _A rag-tag, all-female team led by a 15-year-old girl. That alone spells a disaster waiting to happen. The team faced it's up and downs, almost facing disbandment at one time. Yet, somehow, they have stayed together and have grown to become a close-knit group and a cohesive unit. However they still tend to get themselves into trouble. That or trouble seems to find them._

* * *

To hear the sounds of sweaty grunts and boxing gloves against skin from the Beacon gym is not uncommon. However in these times of peace, very few found the energy to get out of bed early in the morning to train. It was on days like these that Wash found it the perfect time to endure his tutoring sessions with Yang again. After mending some bridges for how he treated her, the ex-freelancer thought it would be a great way for the two of them to bond and develop an "actual" friendship. Yang said it was unnecessary, that she was already over it, but he wanted this. Plus he still needed help in close-quarter-combat and Yang also needed a partner for her morning workouts. An "and-everybody's-happy" sort of deal as Epsilon called it.

"That's it, keep your hands up," the blonde brawler threw more jabs in the ring, "Stay light on your feet."

Wash blocked the first few punches before stepping back, staying on the balls of his feet.

Yang snickered when she noticed his odd stance, "What is that?"

"Doing what you said," the ex-freelancer bounced around to get a better angle, "What else?"

"Okay, one: that looks more like you're hopping and you look ridiculous," she laughed with her guard still up, "You wanna know what two is?"

"Is it gonna-WOAH!"

The ex-freelancer could feel his body being lifted into the air as the wind was knocked out of him. His brain now feeling fuzzy when he found himself staring at the lights in the ceiling.

"...Hurt," he wheezed out.

Yang giggled, keeping her fist in the air while staying on top, "I think you answered your own question there."

"Thanks for the tip," Wash coughed, "I'll make sure to remember that."

"You make the same mistakes all the time," the blonde brawler taunted him, "Has anything I taught you sunk in yet?"

"Maybe it's your teaching style," the ex-freelancer deadpanned but then carried a smirk of his own, "But I do remember one thing."

"Oh, really~?" Yang challenged him.

He quickly trapped the arm that was pinning him down with his left and reached for her shoulder with his right. Yang was caught off guard at the sudden smooth motion that threw her to the ground, now being the one who was pinned.

"Yes, really," Wash replied triumphantly.

"...Well, good thing you remember that one," she had a proud smile on her face.

Just as fast, or maybe more so than Wash, Yang swiped her left leg across his chest and snaked around him. She then spun herself until she had both hands on his right leg and brought it close to her chest. Combined with her legs straightening outward, a loud thud echoed throughout the gym as Wash was sent flying into the mat face first. Once again Yang sat victoriously above of her opponent while continuing to stretch the ex-freelancer's leg into an uncomfortable position.

"Cause now I can teach you some new stuff," she pulled her opponent's leg.

"Okay, okay!" Wash tapped the ring to free himself, "I give I give!"

She brought a hand to her ear, "Give what~?"

"Seriously Yang?" he growled back at her.

"Jeez, fine," the blonde brawler finally let him go and walked to her corner of the ring, allowing the ex-freelancer to let out a sigh of relief.

"You know," Wash weakly picked himself up from the ground to roll out his sore joints, "I'm starting to think these 'tutoring' sessions are just your excuse to use me as your personal punching bag."

"Hey, you said you wanted to get better at fighting up close and personal," Yang grabbed two water bottles from her bag and tossed one of them towards him, "If you can't handle it, you can always ask cereal girl."

"Thanks," the ex-freelancer caught it and took a quick swig, "But I think Pyrrha is a bit busy with looking after Jaune. Since we're on the topic of tutoring, you ready for tonight?"

"Ooohhhh," the blonde's eyes widened, looking away guilty, "About that, I can't make it."

"Yang," he glared at what could possibly be an upcoming excuse, "Don't even think about ducking out, we agreed that you train me in the ring and I tutor you in the library."

"Wow Wash, you make it sound so dirty," she winked at him.

The ex-freelancer once again frowned at her jokes, "I'm being serious. You're hanging by a thread in history and we both know Professor Oobleck can be merciless when he wants to."

"And you know how annoying of a perfectionist Weiss is," Yang played with the cap on her bottle, "Look, the team and I are just….getting ready for the Vytal Festival. Honest."

She even raised her left hand up and brought her right hand with the water bottle to her chest where her heart would be.

"Really?" Wash crossed his arms in disbelief at her explanation.

"Really."

The ex-freelancer continued to stare at the blonde in front him, waiting to see if she'll crack under the pressure.

"Just this once pleeeeaaasse?" she clapped her hands together and bowed her head, "I promise I won't skip out ever again."

"...Okay, fine," the ex-freelancer sighed, "Just be prepared to stay up late. I can be quite the drill sergeant."

Yang simply stared back with a knowing smirk on her face.

"..."

"..."

"Studying!" Wash clarified, hoping to get rid of the blush on his face, "I meant studying!"

"Too late, no take backs," she laughed as she leaped over the ropes before jogging to the showers, "I've got a class coming up. Thanks again!"

Wash waved at her retreating form until she entered the locker room. Knowing that they were finally alone, his friendly gesture was replaced with a brooding atmosphere.

Epsilon formed right next to him, knowing what his partner was thinking, " _You don't believe her, do you?_ "

"Nope," Wash stated.

* * *

Wash and the idea of trusting someone have always had a rough relationship. Though he, as well as Epsilon, would argue that he has gotten better at being less….isolated. However there were days when the ex-freelancer would feel anxious if he didn't check his locks twice, or scanned the room for threats before entering, and to never show his back to anyone. Days like this where the huntsman-trainee returns to being the freelancer operative.

" _Has anyone ever told you that your trust issues just make you more of an asshole,_ " Epsilon lectured within the confines of their room.

"I have been hearing it a lot lately," Wash took out his M6H magnum's empty magazine, "Mostly from you."

The sapphire A.I.F. paced in the air, " _And **yet** it feels like you don't listen to me when I tell you._ "

"I'm just feeling a bit….suspicious," he continued to place the rounds into his weapon.

" _She's just going to train with her teammates,_ " Epsilon shook his head, but soon stopped in midair, " _Wait, are you mad because she ditched you?_ "

"I'm not mad because she _ditched_ me," Wash placed his sidearm into the leg holster, "I just think something's off about her today," he then picked up the matrix TF-3 vest off his bed, "You're an A.I., you saw the signs: looking to the left before answering, quick replies, elevated heart rhythm."

" _Elevated heart-!?_ " Epsilon slammed his hand against his visor, " _Oh dear god, you looked through the B.S.!?_ "

He pulled the final strap, "I didn't do a whole bioscan. Just….a quick check."

" _That's it!_ " the A.I.F.'s arms flailed in frustration, " _I'm hacking into your medical records and writing down that you've completely snapped._ "

"Look, would you calm down," Wash calmly tried to diffuse his partner's well earned anger as he placed his battle rifle against his back, "It's not that I don't trust her, Yang's a capable fighter as well as the rest of her team. But it's also my job to watch over them and make sure they don't get in over their heads."

" _And what makes you so sure?_ " Epsilon sighed as he prepared for an explanation.

"Because I can hear them talking about going on an 'investigation' into what has been happening in Vale for the past few months."

The sapphire A.I.F. just stared at the ex-freelancer until his hand connected with his groaning visor once again.

"These walls are surprisingly thin," Wash motioned to his entire room, "Especially when you use Aura."

" _I'm calling the school therapist,_ " Epsilon shook his head in both disappointment and disbelief.

"Just come on," he deadpanned.

It only took a few steps from his room to reach team RWBY's dorm, but wanted to make sure that his theory was correct. He placed his ear against the entrance and could hear that they wrapped up their little team meeting. But then he heard two new, familiar voices.

"Ptoo!" the first voice spat, "That's dumb, you should always get friends involved. That's why I brought Neptune."

"Sup," he heard the bluenette, if only a little.

"How did you even get up here?" Ruby asked.

"I have my ways," he answered, "Seriously though, can I come in now? We're like really high up."

" _Guess that's my cue_ ," Wash thought before knocking.

The ex-freelancer could briefly hear the panicked shuffling and muffled protests coming from the room.

Someone spoke through the door when things settled down, "Who is it?"

"Ruby, it's me," Wash asked, "Do you have a minute?"

"Oh, s-sorry Wash! I-I-I mean we uh," she tried to come up with an excuse, "Just got out of the shower!"

The ex-freelancer furrowed his brow at the worst lie ever, "You all took a shower together?"

"I mean _I_ just got out of the shower!" Ruby squeaked, "Gotta be squeaky clean you know? Not for any special reason or anything if that's what you're thinking! Can you, like, come back later?"

Wash shook his head and decided to play along, if only a little, "Okay then. I just wanted to let you know that I got some new issue of a magazine called 'Weapons & Rounds'. I don't think I subscribed to it so I'm going to take it to the shooting range for target practice-."

The door was quickly ripped open, "NODON'TTHAT'SMINE!"

Wash looked into the team's dorm and saw a panicked Ruby while the rest of her team had their palms against their faces. Along with the horribly obvious lump in one of the beds and the tail coming out from under it.

"Right~," Wash deadpanned, "Shower."

"I can't believe you fell for that," Weiss glared at the red huntress.

"But I haven't gotten the newest issue yet," Ruby whined, but then quickly turned to the ex-freelancer, "Does it have the newest mods for sniper rifles in it."

"I….I wouldn't know," Wash nervously leaned away from the weapon's maniac, "I don't have it."

"But you said-!?" her silver eyes widened in realization, "Hey! That's cheating!"

"It was the only way to get you to let me in."

"Let me guess," Blake narrowed her eyes accusingly towards Sun, "You want to be part of this investigation too."

"Hey!" the monkey-faunus leaped out of the bed, "I didn't tell him!"

"I live next door ya know," Wash pointed to the wall, "It's not I like I can't hear you on the other side."

"And just how much did you hear?" Yang asked.

"Enough to know that all of you are planning to investigate what's going on in town," he explained, "I'd like to offer my services."

"I thought we all agreed that we would keep this to the four of us?" Weiss protested.

"The more the merrier, am I right?" Sun grinned.

"He means," Neptune climbed out of his hiding spot, "We can cover more ground that way."

"Good point," Ruby considered the possibilities, "Let's wait awhile and see if anyone else want's to join."

The room then completely fell silent.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Okay waits over," she announced to the group, "Let's hatch a plan!"

"We already have one," Blake stated.

"We're hatching a new one," Ruby continued, "Here's how it goes: I'll go with Weiss to the CCT, Sun goes with Blake to the rally, Wash with Yang to meet her friend, and Neptune…."

"He can come with us!" the heiress chirped, but then quickly covered her mouth and blushing face, "That is, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all snow angel," the bluenette winked.

" _Oh dear god,_ " Epsilon gagged.

"Well then it's settled, we'll meet up with Yang and review what we find out. Let's do this!"

"Yeah!" Sun pumped his fist into the air being the only one who showed enthusiasm.

The others simply filed out one by one. Wash and Yang were the last to go out, but in the opposite direction.

"Um, Yang?" the ex-freelancer pointed behind them, "The airdock is that way."

"That'll take too long," she continued to walk, "I know a better way there."

"Okay then," Wash looked on nervously, "And what's that?"

His friend looked back at him with a gleeful smirk, "You'll see."

* * *

 **Beacon Campus...**

School security is like a balance scale. Installing too little makes it vulnerable and easier of a target. But put in too much and your students will feel like they're attending a prison. It's this balance that provides certain people wide enough gaps to enter without the risk of being seen. Strange enough, the academy's gardens carry the lowest risk of being spotted. A place that perfectly met Cinder's needs. To these spoiled students, she looked nothing more than one of the transferees who wanted to have lunch by herself. When in fact she was about to see an associate.

Despite being a school that trained future monster-slayers, Beacon had a surprisingly rich garden. It wasn't like something you would find at a nature reserve but it wasn't as tiny or amateurishly done like in an elementary school. Just patches of flowers all organized by their color and were connected by dirt pathways in between. All this led to a decently sized white gazebo with benches and a table. Though time was not kind to it, as she could see the paint began to chip away. But it is still the last place anyone would think something shady were to occur.

Cinder made her way to the gazebo, ignoring the variety of scents and pollens from the clusters, and took a seat on the bench that outlined it. She unscrewed the top of her thermos and poured a cup of ice-tea to further play the role of a typical student. Though her serene and relaxed face covered one of preoccupation and expectancy. One quick sip later she was checking her scroll for the time. They agreed to meet at 1:00 sharp, a time where students' stomachs are full and most likely in food comas during class.

Fives minutes have already passed and the dust witch decided to take another sip. Only to stop midway when she noticed a white-petaled flower in her cup.

"Leucanthemum vulgare," Florida chirped from behind her, "Otherwise known as the Oxeye daisy."

Cinder's expression now carried a small scowl at what was apparently a joke. The blue freelancer said nothing as he took the seat from across the table. Even though he wore military armor with the strangest choice in camouflage, Florida appeared to be quite relaxed during this meeting.

"Is there a reason why this is in my drink?" she plucked the flower unamused.

"It symbolizes patience," Florida answered a matter-of-factly, "I wanted to give it as an apology gift for my tardiness."

The dust witch said nothing but bore her eyes through his visor.

"I do hope you can forgive me," he seemed to not even be the least bit concerned.

Cinder twirled the gift before taking in it's fragrance, "I never thought it would be so difficult to infiltrate a school."

"To be fair, you arrived at the same time the Atlesian military did," the blue freelancer replied, "I had to snake past patrols and lively students."

"Did anyone spot you?"

"No, it seems they are more pre-occupied with preparing for the Vytal Festival. So this area of the school isn't visited often," Florida looked out towards the untouched yet well-cared garden, "Such a shame though."

"I like to think that you were rather fortunate," Cinder placed her cup on the table as her tone became stern, "Report."

"...The _party_ is going on as scheduled, however there was a _tiny_ miscalculation," Florida made a gesture of the small space between his thumb and index finger.

She narrowed her eyes in disapproval, "Miscalculation?"

"Nothing to worry about," he chuckled back at her, "Only that there are a lot more guests who are eager to join than we thought."

"Well we have you to thank for that," Cinder crossed her legs and leaned back into her seat, "It just means we have more extra helpers for what's ahead."

She had a feeling Florida was smirking under that helmet, "Be glad that he didn't hear you say that."

"In any case, order more _decorations_ for tonight," Cinder smiled back at him, "We wouldn't want anyone to leave unhappy or risk….party crashers."

"Already done," Florida leaned forward with his fingers intertwined, "And you?"

She took another drink from her tea, "...Yes?"

"Anything you'd like to report?"

"I don't believe you have the privilege to ask me that question," Cinder stated coldly.

"Think of it as a quid pro quo," the blue freelancer argued, "To make sure we are still on equal terms."

"As I've told you as well as everyone else," she stared back at him, "You'll know. When the time. Is right."

"I know that," he pestered but refused to give up, "But does it hurt to indulge me a little?"

For a while Cinder didn't say anything as she swirled her drink around her cup. Unlike with the White Fang, her partnership with Project Freelancer was more...complex. Sure Adam and his group provided to their little "Alliance of Evil" with numbers, however she knows that at any moment they could easily turn on them. That's where Agent Florida and his comrades come in. They were a sort of contingency plan if the Faunus decided to cut ties with them. Sure having hundreds of grunts is nice; but having a few dozen or so elite operatives and mercenaries on your side is just as effective. If not better.

"...If you must know," she finally spoke up, "I've started to do a little….digging around."

"I see," the freelancer liaison leaned back with a laugh, "That _is_ something worthy to report."

The dust witch had taken another sip until she heard the snicker, "Is something funny?"

"It's nothing really," the blue freelancer tried to suppress his laughter, "It's just, I'm surprised that you were able pass as a student."

It took years of practice for Cinder to control her emotions. Had she been younger, she would have burnt him to a crisp for that insult.

"Are you inferring that I look old?" her eyes glowed more brightly than usual.

"No not at all," Florida playfully raised his hands, "Rather, it appears that you carry yourself more maturely than most people….well….your age."

Cinder gritted her teeth under her lips to keep herself from growling at the blue freelancer. First he insults her for being old, then he thinks of her as some sort of kid. The more she thought about it, the more burning him alive started to look enticing.

She sighed in order to stop that from happening, "Is there anything else?"

"I think we're wrapped up here," Florida stood up, but then snapped his fingers when he spontaneously remembered, "Oh wait! I almost forgot. My boss is working on a new party favor."

"A party favor?" she deadpanned at him, "Can you be more specific?"

"Not much," he shrugged, "Only that he was inspired by the _ideas_ you've given him," the blue freelancer than gave a playful bow, "I shall take my leave then, Ms. Thorn-Apple."

Cinder rolled her eyes and poured herself another cup. When she looked back, he was already gone. The dust witch was surprised at how quickly the freelancer could disappear from sight. Perhaps he had more tricks than she realized. She growled to herself at how easily he manipulated her, both literally and emotionally. No matter how nice he acted around her, he is just like the rest of them. The kind of man who enjoyed playing with her for their own gain. And she had enough of them to last a life-time. Of course, she'll be beyond overjoyed the day she'll rip off that helmet to witness the look on his face. Maybe then she will finally feel "satisfied". One day.

The "Fall Maiden" studied the daisy he gave her as an apology….before setting it ablaze.

"The Devil's snare huh?" she sprinkled the ashes into the garden with a smile, "...Fitting."

* * *

 **Beacon Garage...**

Despite the invention of the airships, mankind in the end will always depend on the road to take them to their destination. Though many of the students prefered to use the airdock to take them into the city, there were those who found the simple pleasures in letting the wind blow through their hair with the hums of an engine beneath them. Thankfully Ozpin made the decision to construct a parking structure for students who already had their own transportation. Wash looked upon the rows of cars that seemed to symbolize each the owner's social standing. Most appeared average, others were of the latest models, while some seemed to have come from a junkyard.

"So," the ex-freelancer stared at the automobiles with varying levels of grimace, "Which one is yours?"

"This one!" Yang's voice echoed.

Wash found her three rows down, in the section reserved for motorcyclists. There he saw their transport into Vale. It was a yellow color-scheme that perfectly matched it's owner, along with the small tints of orange and the black racing stripes. It at least looked like it could hold the both of them, even if it looked a little small.

"A motorcycle?" Wash approached the vehicle.

"Got a problem with that?" Yang placed her hands on her hips, seeming to take offense.

"No-No!" he fervently waved his hands, "I just….rarely ride on one."

"Seriously?" the blonde motorist stared at him as if he was joking, "Don't you super-spy guys get to ride cool vehicles and all that."

"Technically I was special-ops and I've rode in dropships, tanks," Wash counted off with his fingers, but his expression quickly turned bitter, "...cars."

"Well don't worry," Yang tapped the seat behind her, "Bumblebee will get us there before you even know it."

"Bumblebee?" Wash raised a brow at the vehicle's name.

"She flaps like a butterfly," the blonde motorist placed on here aviators, "But hums like a bee."

The ex-freelancer rolled his eyes and sat on the extra space, "I don't suppose she has an extra helmet?"

"Nope," she put on said item before looking back with a devilish smile, "Fresh out."

Wash could feel the engine vibrating under his seat, "Wait, what!?"

"You don't get motion sick do you?" the blonde revved her engine, "Cause don't even think of pulling a Jaune on my hair."

"Um…no, but Yang," he could feel the anxiety building in his gut as the engine grew louder, "Just let me-WAAAAHHH!"

And just like that, the duo drove towards the city lights.

* * *

 **A/N: A sort of public announcement to fans of this story. Things are going to be hectic this year and the next chapter is going to longer than the ones that came before. Sadly that means it's going to take a while to complete.**

 **Epsilon: But on the bright side, it means you can expect a lot more.**

 **See you soon.**


	5. Off the Books II

**A/N:[CONNECTION E-E-E-E-ESTABLISHED]**

 **G-GaryOkampo logging on...**

 *** _Dusts off computer screen_ ***

 **Kept you-* _cough cough_ *-waiting huh?**

 **Because this chapter was so long, I had to divide it into two parts. Here's part 1.**

* * *

 _Journal Entry 105_

 _Subject: The White Fang_

 _Terrorists, psychopaths, murderers…._

 _I sometimes find it hard to believe that members of the White Fang were once called "peaceful protesters"._

 _During the Great War, Faunus soldiers were often used as both cannon fodder and/or frontline combatants against Gulch. However many were taken prisoner when the tides began to change. Even more so when they were just left behind by their military leaders after the war ended. Leaving them in the hands of my people, who many could clearly remember the atrocities they committed._

 _And you can guess how they reacted._

 _Looking at how they are treated in the kingdoms, it was like comparing schoolyard bullying to a lynch mob. It was during the Faunus Rights Revolution that the entire country was turned upside down. Despite the outcome of the war, remnants still affect both people to this day. It made sense that the White Fang appeared like saviors to Gulch Faunus when they showed up. Since then my home has been on a knife-edge as the group continues to divide the people, influencing them with their hatred._

 _Ironically, it's thanks to the White Fang that my nation's military has a purpose. It gave our soldiers both a purpose and a reason to pull the trigger. They were why Project Freelancer was given so much, well, freedom._

* * *

Due to his past affiliation with a special-ops unit, Washington was no stranger to near death experiences. Be it dodging bullets or skydiving off a hundred-and-ten story building, the young agent seemed to be able to live through anything. However it seems now he believes his odds for survivability are dropping.

"OOOHHH MY GOD!"

Wash gripped the sides of his seat in a panic. This was the fourth time she drove between a very narrow opening between two trucks. He was surprised that a swarm of police cars haven't already started chasing them thanks to Yang's aggressive driving. The ride towards the highway into town was peaceful enough, but when they reached the "shady" parts of city, she started to become more….daring. Wash told himself that every second on this motor-deathtrap brought him closer to their destination, and he'd finally get off this thing. Which he hopes is soon.

Yang looked back at her passenger, "You okay back there?"

"Can you PLEASE keep your eyes on the road!" the huntsman-trainee yelled.

The blonde motorist snickered at her back seat driver's torment, "Geez, if you don't like it you can always do the old reach around."

"I'm fine thank you," he growled, still not enjoying the ride, "Just how much long-?"

The ex-freelancer was hastily interrupted when he suddenly felt his seat fly up into the air and then instantly back down.

Yang took off her helmet to free her golden locks, "We're here."

"Great," Wash let out a sigh of both relief and nausea as he stepped off the bike.

He quickly put his disheveled outfit back in order, hoping to at least look professional during this meeting, "So about your 'friend', can we trust him?"

"Most of the info he has his legit," she hopped off her bike to pat out her clothes, "I go to him a couple of times when I need something."

The former freelancer scanned over what was supposed to be the meeting place. From the sounds of upbeat music, it looked like a dance club. Sort of. Parts of it seem damaged, the window above the entrance has been recently replaced, and the red carpet rolled out is new. Despite it's appearance, Yang casually approached the establishment like it was another friday night. At the entrance were a couple of what looked like gangsters in black suits wearing red shades. One of them held a step-up ladder steady while the other is installing a neon-lit sign. The light's cursive spelling made out the word "Xiong's" with a semi-cartoonish bear wrapping it's paws around it.

Yang whistled to both guards, "Oh boys~. Are you open?"

"Sorry lady, we're closed," the suit holding the ladder turned to her, "You're gonna have to-."

His face immediately paled when he laid eyes on that familiar blonde hair. His hands soon trembled, causing the ladder to shake, which his friend noticed.

"Hey, watch it!" the other barked, "What the hell's-!?"

He soon too carried the same expression.

"You wouldn't happen to know if Junior's here, would you?" she jokingly fluttered her eyelashes.

"Oh no it's her!" the one holding the ladder panicked.

He quickly stormed into the building as he left his similarly distraught co-worker.

"H-Hey! Wait!" he jumped off, "Don't leave me with her!"

Wash had a worried expression as he stared at the pair of guards after their sudden change in behaviour. Now it suddenly makes sense what was so special about this place. And something told him that things were about to get chaotic.

Aside from the two thugs at the front door, the two of them haven't run into any guards since they went inside. The lights dimmed as they got closer to what looked like a massive sliding door made of glass. Along with the sounds of the panicked employees.

"Hurry close the door!" one of them screeched as they slid the entrance shut, "She's coming!"

Yang instantly armed her gauntlets and was prepared to open it the hard(fun) way.

"Okay~," Wash grabbed her shoulder to keep her from making things worse, "Why don't we try a more tactical approach."

The fiery blonde snorted, "What're you talking about? I'm being tactful."

"No, I said tactical not-. Never mind," he brought up his gauntlet, "Epsilon, do you read any security cameras?"

" _Yep_ ," the A.I.F. appeared in front of them, " _A bunch in the dance hall, looks like they're newly installed too._ "

"Gee, I wonder why," Wash glanced at his partner.

Yang innocently shrugged back at him.

The ex-freelancer simply sighed, "Can you hack into them, get me a live feed?"

Epsilon flashed for a brief second, " _Done, sending it to your HUD now?_ "

"Your HUD?" Yang crossed her arms.

"It stands for 'Heads Up Display'," Wash tapped his sunglasses, "I've connected it to my neural implants with Epsilon which allows me to-."

"I know what a HUD is," Yang cut off the lecture, "It's not like I haven't played video games before, so you can save the geek talk. Plus, I already know about your 'special' glasses from York."

"Oh," he continued pressing the keys on his gauntlet, "So you already know about it."

Though he was still slightly bothered at the idea of everyone watching his memories.

"Yeah," the blonde scratched her head, "He said something about them having night vision and some biology-thing."

"It's called a Bio-com," Wash answered, "It helps me keep track of any teammates physical health while on a mission by scanning them."

"And here I thought it was because you were a such good medic," Yang deadpanned, "Wait, is that how you found out about this. You scanned me-."

" _We've got company!_ " Epsilon interrupted them, " _Twenty assholes who think holding a gun sideways actually helps are gearing up on the other side._ "

Wash's instincts took over as he powered up his EMP with a hastily formed plan, "Copy that. I don't have a flare on me, but a quick pulse should distract them just enough. Yang, take a position on the right side and I'll-."

 _BOOM!_

The ex-freelancer and A.I. fragment were caught off guard by the sudden explosion and saw the door blown wide open. Obviously, they know from who.

"GUESS WHO'S BACK!?" Yang announced to the room full of armed thugs.

The second everyone aimed their guns at her, Wash quickly did the same with his. Not that it would make much a difference if this all went down hill. Which it was by the second. The former-soldier could tell that these guys were not well trained gunmen. Their trigger fingers were getting itchy and they were doing a terrible job at hiding their sweat. This made them easy targets, but he wasn't sure about taking out all of them without them taking him down too. Not to mention that there were some who seem to have better nerves then their co-workers.

Only the music that kept on repeating the same group of notes played in the background as both parties stared at each other through iron-sights. Except for Yang who was casually waiting for someone to answer her question. However it took one look from her to make the DJ, who was wearing a ridiculous bear-head costume, to stop the music.

Wash growled to his teammate, "I thought I said we were being tactical."

"I don't think I remember agreeing with your plan," Yang argued.

"Stop, Stop!" a voice shouted from the back, "Nobody. Shoot."

The suits parted ways when a large man approached the two of them. He wore the same outfit as the others; minus the red shades, fedora, and the black blazer. If it wasn't anymore obvious….he was the "boss" of this establishment.

"Blondie, you're here," he nervously adjusted his tie, "Why~?"

" _You_ still owe me a drink," Yang, or "Blondie", approached the crime boss and dragged him by the arm to the bar.

The gangsters soon lowered their weapons as they seem to realize it was futile to ignore her. Wash eventually did the same as he tried to comprehend what he saw.

" _I didn't know Yang is legal to drink,_ " Epsilon realized.

Wash pulled down his balaclava, " _Do you really think she is the type of girl to follow the law?_ "

" _...Good point._ "

* * *

 **Vale: Industrial District...**

As a former member of the White Fang, Blake was obviously the ideal choice to investigate them. She knew their history, tactics, fighting strength, even a few key individuals. Locating one of their regular faction meetings/recruitment rallies was easy as finding a child's book in the library. The former-member traced the three scratch marks on the wall near the warehouse. It was the signature they left behind for any of their activities. Her suspicions were proven when she saw a guard at the entrance, who was dressed in civilian clothes, let in a pair of Faunus inside.

Blake was certain, "This is it."

"You sure?" Sun asked.

The cat faunus narrowed her eyes at her companion.

"I'll just take your word for it," he raised his hands in surrender.

Both of them approached the guard at the door. He didn't look like anyone she recognized, so it's possible he's a recent member. Hopefully no one showed him a photo of her before coming here. All it took was a raise of his hands to make them stop in their tracks. He eyed the two of them suspiciously, even more so at Blake and her black bow.

"Why hide who you are sister?" he asked.

She wanted give a simple and quick answer, "Protection. You know how humans are, the second they see something different….," she undid her bow to reveal her cat ears, "They pounce you like a pack of beowolves. And they call _us_ animals."

Thankfully he accepted her answer and took out two items from his back pocket. Blake could feel her blood run cold when she saw them, a pair of Grimm masks. She had to fight back the memories that came up and grabbed the mask as soon as possible.

He bowed as he let them in, "Welcome to the White Fang,"

The cat-faunus had to control her stride in order to keep her former "friends" from recognizing her. She had to make sure that she didn't run in too fast or show hesitation by going in too slowly. Sun was probably just as confused as well as "weirded-out" at how secretive the guard was being and just followed.

"I don't get it," the monkey-faunus asked when they were finally alone in the corridor, "If you believe what you're doing is right, why hide who you are?"

"The masks are a symbol," the former-White Fang answered, "Humanity wanted to make monsters of us," she sorely studied the item in question, "So we decided to don the faces of monsters."

Sun gave an uneven smile as he tried to think positive, like he always does, "Grimm masks? That's….kinda dark."

Blake put on her mask, "So is the guy who started it."

"Always sunshine and rainbows with you," he sighed before putting his own mask on.

They finally made it to the main part of the building where a massive crowd greeted them. On one side were the regular members who were dressed in the standard uniform. The other half had the new recruits wearing the Grimm masks they received at the door. However Blake was more worried about the sentries on the balconies who were looking for anyone suspicious. Probably any law enforcement who thought wearing fake ears or tails was enough to pass as one of them. She remembered how often that plan backfired.

Thankfully the two of them stood in the middle of the crowd which made it easy to blend in. Everyone's eyes were directed to the metal stage where a White Fang Lieutenant stood proudly in front of a black banner with the group's symbol on it.

"Thank you all for coming," he announced to the audience, "For those of you who are joining us for the first time tonight, allow me to introduce a very special comrade of ours! I can assure you, he is the key to obtaining what we have fought for, for so long!"

He motioned towards a man who stepped on stage. A man who Blake had encountered in the past. She recognized that red-and-black cane along with that smug smirk from anywhere. Even to this day she still found it hard to accept. That someone like Roman Torchwick is working with the White Fang.

"Thank you! Thank you!" the infamous criminal waved to the booing crowd, "Please, hold your applause."

A faunus with antlers demanded in disgust, "What's a human doing here?"

"I'm glad you asked _deerie_ ," Roman quipped with his usual bravado, "Now, I'll be the first to admit that humans…. Are. The. Worst."

Everyone seemed to quiet down when he continued.

"Case in point," he motioned to himself, "So I understand why you want to see us all locked away, or better yet, killed!"

Some of the audience nodded in agreement except for a few skepticals.

"Is he going somewhere with this?" Sun leaned towards Blake.

"Shush!" she whispered.

"But, before the claws come out, I'd like to mention the fact that you and I all have a common enemy: the ones in control, the people pulling the strings, the dirty rotten humans that run our kingdoms! Government, military, even the schools: they're all to blame for your lot in life!"

More and more people started to shout in agreement, earning the two undercover faunus a worried glance.

"And they're all pests that need to be dealt with!" Roman continued, "Fortunately, I'm the best exterminator around….No offense to any rodents in the room."

With a snap of his fingers, the banner behind him was released, revealing a massive mech. Both of it's arms had cannons mounted onto it and what looked like missile launchers on it's shoulders. Everyone was applauding and cheering at the sight of something they would only find in the movies. Yet here it was right in front of them….and at their disposal.

"That's...a big robot," Sun looked up in awe.

The whole thing didn't make sense to Blake, "How did he get that?"

"As some of you might have heard, this right here," Roman tapped the cockpit, "Is Atlas' newest defense against all the scary things in the world. And thanks to my employer, we've managed to snag a few before they, uh, 'hit the shelves'. However," he stepped to the mech's side, "For those of you who prefer a more stealthy approach. Then I just have the thing for you too," he presented the empty half of the stage.

The crowd murmured to each other in confusion until they heard the sounds of something deactivating. What was once a vacant area, now stood a team of mercenaries in gray armor that were armed to the teeth. Though everyone's eyes were drawn to the man in center with his skull-like helmet.

Blake's own eyes widened when she recognized that sort of technology. They were soldiers….Gulch soldiers. And with equipment like that, it only meant one thing. Project Freelancer is also working with the White Fang. If someone like Roman was hard to understand, then the group allying with those whose mission was to hunt them down is an impossibility. The ex-terrorist's mind ran through the scenarios why, with each one making less sense than the last.

"Now these kind gentleman, and lovely lady," he winked at the female mercenary, "Are wearing the most advanced camouflage suit from Gulch. Some of you have probably never heard of it. That's okay, since it's a backwater country anyway. But I assure you….the Faunus there hate their humans with a _passion_ ," Roman decided to take center stage for the grand finale, "Now, many of your brothers have already moved down to our new operation in the southeast. If you'd rather stay within the city, that's fine…," he drew a cigar from his breast pocket, "But if you're truly ready to fight for what you believe in, this is the arsenal I can provide you. Any questions?"

The warehouse roared with the cheers as they pumped their fists into the air. Both huntsmen-trainees could tell from their chants that they were sold. A fire was lit within the White Fang, and all this just set it ablaze. This was how tarnished her ideals were. Advocates of peace and unity were now terrorists that spread hatred throughout the world. And she was once one of them. The whole thing just made her sick to her stomach.

Sun quickly noticed that her skin turned a shade paler, "Blake? Are you feeling okay?"

"I-I'm….I'm okay Sun," the cat faunus covered her mouth to keep herself from heaving, "We need to get out of here."

"Will all new recruits," the White Fang Lieutenant announced to them, "Please come forward!"

The people in front and behind them pushed against each other as they excitedly approached the stage.

"Well," Sun awkwardly clapped his hands together, "That may be a bit….hard."

* * *

 **Xiong's Night Club….**

In any line of work, it is best to have background knowledge in any subject. That is what having a contact is for. Their job is to understand and have access to resources that you either can't reach or understand. For huntsmen and huntresses, it is best to form as many connections as you can. Even if she was still a huntress-in-training, Yang made sure that she at least had one source to rely on. However it seems that very source….is not very helpful. She stood in front of the bar with her arms crossed and her finger tapping as her patience began to thin. So far they have been talking in circles for over half an hour. She expected Junior to have more information than this.

"What do you mean you don't know!?" the fiery blonde shifted her weight onto a leg.

Junior rubbed his temples as he answered for the third time, "I told you I don't know? I haven't even seen him since the last time you came in here. He paid up front, I lent him some of my men, and none of them. Came. Back!"

"He didn't tell you where they were going?"

"What part of 'none of them came back' did you not understand!?" Junior exclaimed with open arms.

Yang only raised an eyebrow, "You've held out on me before."

"That's because you gave me a concussion after you destroyed my club!" the owner pinched the bridge of his nose before replying, "I've already told you everything I know. Torchwick hired some of my boys and I guess he wasn't happy with them," he then turned to his subordinates, "WHICH IS SOMETHING I CAN RELATE TO!"

Yang, ignoring the offended goons, decided to interrogate her informant about something else, "Fine then, if you don't know anything about Torchwick, how about the White Fang?"

"As if I want anything to do with those whack-jobs," Junior grabbed a rag and begun to polish one of the glasses, "I run a clean, honest business."

"Yeah, I'll bet," she grumbled to herself.

"What I can tell you though, is that they have been a bit….energetic lately."

Yang leaned in over the bar, "What do you mean 'energetic'?"

"Like something big is about to go down," he answered stoically.

"...Seriously?" she narrowed her eyes, "You're going to be all cryptic about it?"

"Hey, all I know is that they've been holding rallies and a lot of faunus have been joining them lately!" Junior shrugged, "What do you want from me!?"

She impatiently crossed her arms, "Something useful would be nice."

"Look, I'm just telling you what I hear. Now if you don't have anymore questions, can you please leave? I just finished fixing up the place. The last thing I need is you and your boyfriend to tear it down again."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" he directed a glare towards the far-end of the club, "Then again, he doesn't exactly look your type."

"And how would you know what my type is?" Yang huffed.

"I run a bar kid, I know how to read people," Junior smirked, "So….are we done?"

"Yeah, we're done. For now anyway," the frustrated blonde turned away, but quickly looked back, "Actually there's one last thing."

"Oh, great," the club owner snarled.

"Have you heard about a group called 'Project Freelancer'?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"Never heard of them," Junior answered back, "Doesn't sound like any gang I've ever heard about. More like some mad scientist's experiment."

Yang sighed in disappointment, as if a street level thug had info on a rogue military unit, "Figures."

"I'll be back again," she waved while walking away.

Junior didn't even try hide his sarcasm, "Looking forward to it."

* * *

Wash leaned against one of the tables surrounding the dance floor as he patiently waited for Yang to conduct her business. This wasn't his first time playing as the "associate" for a colleague. In his freelancer days it was practically expected to have your own sources. Of course he was an exception because he was so young. But he could remember some of those times when he did tag along. Carolina knew people that had an ear to the ground. York had "friends" who helped him get "access" into places that most turn away from. Connie seemed to know where the White Fang would strike next(no surprise there). He even heard South had her own contacts. Although he also heard they only helped her because she was blackmailing them.

He followed the usual protocol during meetings such as this. Check your surroundings, know the fastest escape route, and always be ready if(or when) things go wrong. The night club's main area was composed of three levels in a reverse-pyramid architecture. There were only four stair cases that connected each area to the dance floor, their current position. Junior's men were patrolling on the other two. Most of them were still working, but some seem to have the same idea as him since they too were watching them. So far he could locate only two exits, the one behind the bar and the one they came in. However a squad of guards were either lazing about or kept their guns ready on the very staircase towards the latter option. If things really went bad, then they'll have no choice but to fight their way out.

"Would you like a drink?" a voice interrupted his thoughts.

Wash saw the girl approach him with a tray and beverage, along with a customary smile. Naturally his instincts took over as they ordered him to check if she was a threat. She had short black hair, green eyes, heavy makeup, and was wearing so much red that she could give Ruby a run a for her money. Most likely one of the waitresses.

"No thank you," the ex-freelancer politely refused, he believed that drinking on the job always puts the mission at risk.

"Don't worry," she gave a friendly smile, "It's a soda."

Wash, in return, stared at her suspiciously under his sunglasses, " _Even more of a reason not to accept it._ "

The waitress seemed to take the silence as her answer and placed the glass on the table, "Very well then, please let me know if you need anything."

Wash turned back to the conversation between Yang and her contact. It didn't take the skill of being able to read hand gestures and body language to know that things weren't going as planned. Junior wasn't hiding the fact that he didn't seem to have any solid leads. Even more so with Yang who wasn't looking very happy.

"So are you two together or something?" the waitress interrupted him again.

If Wash accepted that drink….he would be choking on it. The girl hadn't left his side and was staring at him with an unknown look in her eyes. An obvious giveaway when someone wants to ask you questions. The key rules when being interrogated is not just trying to keep quiet. It's to never reveal any relationships; be it professional, casual, and most importantly….romantic.

He placed his hands on his hips to be closer to his sidearm, "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," she shrugged.

Wash answered simply and calmly, "I'm just working security."

"Really!?" she clapped her hands, "Like, so do I!"

The huntsman-trainee tilted his head at the strange reaction.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she moved an invisible strand of hair over her ear, "I rarely speak to customers, most of the time it's my sister who does the talking. Like I said, I do security too."

"Really now," he played along with the conversation, "I'm sorry, but you don't exactly look…."

"I know," she patted out her dress, or "combat skirt" as many girls argued, "But it helps distract people from these."

She tapped the red and black claws on her waist. They were flashy, but still sharp enough to cut into skin.

Wash mentally kicked himself for failing to notice those, "I see."

The girl stepped in front of him, blocking his view, "So, you didn't answer my question,"

"I thought I just did," he deadpanned.

"Not really," she smirked, "You didn't tell me what your relationship is with her."

Wash tightened his jaw at the sudden change in her tone, "Like I said, I'm just security."

"Oh," she fluttered her eyelashes, "So, does that mean you're….like, single?"

The apprehensive gaze on his face turned to one of confusion, "Um, excuse me?"

"You know I rarely get to talk to boys," she strode towards him slowly, "They always go to my sister rather than to me."

Wash couldn't help but try to back away, "I, ahem, I-uh-see."

"But ya know," the girl took another step forward, "Those guys aren't really my type."

"T-That's unfortunate," he took another step back, only for the table to block his escape.

There was a smirk on her face that Wash couldn't decide if it was flirtatious or an attempt at being seductive, "I prefer a more….mysterious sort of character. The kind that don't show off what they can offer at the first second. There's something sexy about a guy with secrets."

Wash nervously swallowed as he felt his heart race, and not in a fun-way, "I-I-well-I-uhm…."

"Especially guys that cover their faces," she leaned forward, as if trying to make him look down at her….cleavage, "It's, like, a rule that they're actually the hottest stud on the planet….and he's all yours."

Wash felt his nerves begin to panic as he tried to come up with any idea to get out of this. He has faced death on multiple occasions and had come out unscathed(most of the time). Yet somehow he can't seem to tell an overly-aggressive single woman that he's not interested.

"Ahem."

Both turned to the interruption.

"Ya know Wash," Yang placed her hands on her hips, and a teasing smirk on her face that didn't seem right, "If you're trying to hit on girls, I think you should have some higher standards."

"W-Wait I-I-!" the embarrassed ex-freelancer continued to trip over his words.

The waitress barked, "Why don't you mind your own business blondie! Can't you see we're busy!"

"Really!?" Yang acted like she was surprised, "I didn't know you were on break Melanie. Guess that explains why there wasn't anyone at the stripper poles."

"I'M MILTIA!" the girl stomped her heel, "THE BOUNCER!"

"Oh right~," the blonde snapped her fingers with a grin, "You're the one I sent flying into the pillar. I knocked you out first and then took out your sister."

Miltia drew out her claws as her temper began to flare, "You wanna try that again!?"

"Oh I'd love to," Yang smiled as she cracked her knuckles.

Wash went to his sidearm, about to order both girls to stand down. Until he felt something cold push against his throat. At first he thought it was knife, but then noticed the blade is the heel of a white shoe. His eyes followed up the leg it was attached to and saw a girl who looked similar to Miltia, only with longer hair. Key difference was that she was heavily wearing blue and white clothes. Just like _someone else_ he knows.

"You must be the sister," Wash glared at the newest addition to the stand off.

Melanie just smiled back, "Whose also itching to kick your girlfriend out."

The ex-freelancer spun around in order to draw his battle rifle, now aimed at the girl in white, "For the record: she's not my girlfriend."

Soon everyone had their trigger fingers back on their weapons and aimed towards the two huntsmen and huntress-trainees.

"HEY!" Junior roared from the bar, "WHAT DID I SAY!"

"Yang," Wash hoped to salvage the situation from turning into a gunfight, "Did you find out what we need?"

The blonde huntress shrugged, "We got everything we can. We're done here anyway so we'll just leave. AIN'T THAT RIGHT JUNIOR!"

"ANYBODY WHO DOES **ANYTHING** , IS FIRED!" the club owner shouted to his gang.

"And there you have it," Yang hooked her arm against Wash's and dragged him out, despite his protests.

"See ya later Miltia," she winked at the red bouncer.

The last thing Wash saw before the doors close behind them was Miltia happily waving good bye at him….and then dragged a finger across her neck at Yang.

* * *

 **Vale: Industrial District…**

To a professional mercenary like Locus, orders are everything. No matter what those commands may be or what gets in the way, the mission is priority. Be it to eliminate a target or blow up a building to kill said target, Locus would obey them because that is his purpose. However, when he was told to watch over the rally tonight, he expected to be in the shadows cloaked and looking through the scope of his sniper rifle. Not standing in front of a crowd like some runway model.

When Agent Florida told him that his services were needed, he failed to specify how they were going fulfill this task. But, like many times before, order are orders. So now here he is with a fireteam of his men looking over the crowd for anyone suspicious. Jackson was on his right with his sniper rifle, standing as still as statue like his superior. Sam, on the left, was playing with the scope of his battle rifle rather than paying attention. Laura was the furthest from him, but still just as alert after making sure she carried enough SMG mags.

"Report," Locus commanded through his team's private-com.

"Nothing suspicious in the back of the crowd," Jackson stated.

"Same as the front," Laura added, "White Fang on the balconies are starting to cheer like the rest of them, I think most of them let that speech earlier get to their heads."

"I'm booorreed!" Sam moaned at his superiors, "When is this going to be over?"

Jackson barked at the younger mercenary, "Maybe if you stopped whining, time would move a lot faster."

"Why the hell do we need to keep standing here anyway!?" Sam demanded, "Isn't our part in the show over?"

"Our orders are to scan the crowd for any hostiles," the older merc answered, "We will hold our position until the rally is over and the crowd disperses."

"Then I really want something to happen right about now," the young mercenary tapped his boots, "My feet are starting to kill me."

"If you don't shut your mouth Sam….," Laura raised her SMG, "I'll finish the job."

"Oohhh, so feisty," he flirted with the female mercenary.

"Quiet," Locus lowly growled.

The whole team instantly fell silent.

"You're bickering is putting the mission at risk," he glanced back at his squad, "And you know how I feel if we fail a mission."

"Y-Yes sir!" the fireteam stood at attention.

Locus shook his head at his team's attitude, they were soldiers, so they should act like it. The lead mercenary then continued to scan the crowd through his helmet. The regular White Fang members' cheering died down, but still had smiles on their faces. Recruits on the left side of the audience couldn't seem to contain their excitement to join up. This keeps up, they'll outnumber the men he has under his command. Thankfully they're all civilians and have probably never held a gun in their life. Locus estimated that he and his men can kill about three-quarters of them if they were ordered to do a double-cross. He'll have to ignite the Dust crystals in storage to take out the rest. However his focus was on two certain individuals. They were the only ones who weren't moving along with the rest of the crowd and seemed more hesitant than the rest.

"Contact," Locus reported, "Two faunus in the recruits section."

"I see them," Jackson confirmed, "It's a teenage couple. The female is a cat faunus and the male is a primate."

"Maybe they're having second thoughts," Laura added.

Sam asked excitedly, "Does that mean we get to shoot 'em?"

"Keep watching them," Locus pulled the slide on his SAW, "I'll notify Roman."

The infamous criminal was currently enjoying the spotlight he had pointed at himself. It is a unique skill to turn a crowd that wanted your head on a stake into adoring supporters. But that was as far as Locus' respect could reach. He despised Roman's lack of professionalism when it comes to getting the job done. Even more so when he tends to cause more damage than necessary.

"Sir," the mercenary approached his "associate".

Roman didn't even look at him, "Yes, yes what is it?"

"We have two suspicious figures in the recruit's section," he pointed out, "A primate man and a feline woman."

"I'm sure it's-," the criminal sighed, but instantly twisted his neck, "Wait what!? Where!?"

"Eleven o'clock sir," Locus candidly stated.

Like he said, the faunus couple had not moved much from their current position. It appears they already realized their cover had been blown, as from the primate faunus who was awkwardly waving to them. However the female seems to be more on edge than her "partner" since she was the one trying to find a way out. The cat faunus leaned towards the male and whispered something into his ear. Locus tightened the grip on his weapon with a finger prepared to pull the trigger. That's when he saw the weapon drawn.

"GUN!" Locus raised his SAW, prompting the rest of the fireteam to do the same.

Sadly the intruder already pulled a shot off as power to the entire warehouse went out. The fuse box was most likely her target….a smart tactic. Soon panicked and confused complaints bounced off the walls while the crowds eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Locus tapped the side of his helmet, "Bravo team, switch to night vision."

The mercenaries' visors adjusted their spectral and intensity range until they could see just as well as the audience. Everyone was trying to flee from the scene, the new recruits mostly, believing it was the authorities. The White Fang members were heading to nearby crates to find any and every weapon they can find. Sadly the chaotic environment made it difficult for Locus to find his targets.

"Stop them-GUH!" Roman was interrupted by a sneaker to the face.

He heard the cat faunus' voice coming from the stage, "Sun, the window!"

"Don't let them get away!" the infamous criminal pointed in the opposite direction.

Locus and his team focused their fire to the intruder's escape route, but they had already escaped through the glass.

"Well!?" Roman looked around fervently, "Did you get them!?"

"They escaped sir," Locus answered.

The infamous criminal fumed, "Damniiiitt! Where's the Paladin!?"

"It's right behind you-," the mercenary felt a hand shove him to the side, "What are you doing!?"

Roman made himself comfortable in the mech's cockpit as he pressed the controls, "Living up to my reputation."

Locus backed away when he saw the weapon power-up….and quickly charged through the wall. The mercenary gritted his teeth at the criminal "mastermind"'s immaturity and recklessness. No doubt Roman was going to draw attention to themselves and risk compromising their operation.

"Unfortunate," he growled.

The White Fang Lieutenant ran up the stage towards the massive hole, "What does that human think he's doing!?"

"This area has been compromised," Locus signaled the rest of his team to move out, "Send a squad of your men to my location and then clear out."

"Where are you going!?" he demanded.

The mercenary team filed out of the man-made exit one by one until Locus was the last out, "Following protocol."

* * *

 **A/N: Part 3 coming soon.**


	6. Off the Books III

**A/N: Now the conclusion to this arc**

* * *

 **Vale: Commercial District…**

"And that's it?" Wash walked with Yang back to her motorcycle.

The blonde rubbed her temple, "That's it."

Epsilon appeared on his partner's shoulder, " _He didn't say anything else?_ "

Yang just shrugged, "All he said was that the White Fang have lately been more energetic. 'Like something big was going to happen'," she mockingly re-stated Junior's explanation, "How the hell is that useful!?"

"Sometimes contacts don't have the information we need," the ex-freelancer lectured, "It's supposed to be our job to put the pieces together."

Yang glared at Wash's bluntness and "positive" reinforcement. There were times like this where she almost thought that he and Blake were long lost siblings. What a plot twist that would be.

"Yeah, we just don't know what or when," Yang sat on her motorcycle and put on her helmet.

Wash hesitantly took his seat on the bike, "So what now?"

"We'll meet up with the others and compare notes," the blonde motorist put on her aviators, "Maybe have some smoothies while we're there."

"Seriously?" the former-military operative raised a brow, "Our rendezvous point is a smoothie bar?"

"Oh I'm sorry," Yang laced her apology with sarcasm, "The open fields were all taken, how will we ever get to the LZ?"

"Okay, okay I get it," Wash pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm just not used to being so….casual on missions."

"You know one of these days Wash, you gotta stop taking everything so seriously," she pointed out, "Oh I know, make some puns during a fight. That's what I always do."

The ex-freelancer rolled his eyes, "Right~, while I'm at it, why don't I walk dramatically away from an explosion in slow motion."

" _That would be badass,_ " Epsilon chirped.

 _RING RING!_

Yang pulled out her scroll when she heard the ringtone, "It's Blake! She's calling everybody."

"Maybe they found something?" Wash wondered.

The cat faunus' voice suddenly shouted through the speakers, "EVERYONE! If you can hear me we need back-!"

"HHHEEELLPP!" Sun screamed in the background, "They've got a robot! And it's big! REALLY big!"

The three looked at each other confused.

"That Torchwick guy is in it! But not, like, it didn't eat him; he's, like, controlling it or something!"

Yang yelled at her scroll, "Where are you guys!?"

The group suddenly heard the ground shaking beneath them along with the sounds of what seemed like giant footsteps. All three turned to the direction where it was coming from….and saw a pair of faunus being chased by a giant mech.

"HURRYYY!" Sun shrieked as they tried to escape their pursuer.

Epsilon tilted his head, " _...Huh. This city is a lot smaller than I thought._ "

The blonde motorist fired up her engine, "Let's go!"

"Wait-wait-wait!" Wash quickly grabbed his seat, "WAAAH!"

Once again Yang swerved through traffic as she tried to catch up with the giant robot. They eventually made it to the highway where they saw Blake and Sun leaping from car to car in order to stay ahead. Roman didn't seem to care about collateral damage, since he just charged through any vehicles in his way. Yang began to gritted at the thought of injured civilians. No way anyone was coming out of this unscathed. Roman is so going to pay.

"We've got to slow it down!" Yang shouted to her passenger.

Wash tapped the side of his sunglasses, "Epsilon, find a weak spot!"

" _On it!_ "

Just then, out of the corner of their eyes, Neptune leapt from one of the highways and landed on the mech suit. Naturally Roman tried to throw him off by thrashing around, causing him to run into a column of vehicles. Which sent them flying in Wash and Yang's direction.

Yang accelerated her motorcycle, "Hold on!"

"Oh no!" Wash shrieked, "NOT AGAIIINN!"

The blonde motorist saw the first three cars coming towards them. She swerve to the left to dodge the first, slide against the asphalt for the second, and then dodge right for the third. All while she suffered the usual annoyances of back-seat driving.

"Car car car!" Wash panicked at the automobiles flying passed them, "CAR!" he saw a van rolling towards them, "CAAAARRRR!"

"Yeah I see it!"

Yang turned her bike to the side and tilted as low as possible. She could feel the blood pumping through her veins as the vehicle drew closer. They were practically staring at their own reflections when the windows flew over them. She then kidded to a stop when everything seemed to quiet down just a bit. Yang looked over the carnage Roman caused, seeing cars in shambles and some even some completely turned over. A proud smile formed at how she was able to maneuver her way through it all. Take that Agent Texas.

She turned to her passenger and saw that Wash wasn't sharing her enthusiasm. He was breathing like he was having a panic attack, covered in cold sweat. That and his body was hunched over with his face looking a little green.

"Wash?" Yang shook her friend, "You okay?"

The huntsman-trainee dry heaved before answering, "That….was the worst….experience ever. Of all time"

The blonde motorist cautiously backed away, "Please tell me you're not gonna hurl. I just cleaned the seats."

"Seriously!?" Wash glared at her, "We nearly just died and THAT'S what you're concerned about!?"

"Oh I'm sorry~" Yang scoffed, "I didn't realize you wanted to get flattened!"

"You could have just gone around!"

"I did!"

"You drove INTO them!"

"AND around them! It's the same thing!"

"No it's-!"

CLICK

She heard the sound for the briefest of seconds, but didn't have time to turn her head. Instead she suddenly felt something grip her arm tightly and pull her off her cycle. The action was quick, but she was coherent enough to realize that she was being thrown to the ground.

"GET DOWN!" Wash yelled.

Yang could feel his body shield her own as the shots began to ring out, but then quickly stop.

Wash propped himself on his elbows, "Are you okay!?"

She was startled by his sudden change in attitude. First he was berating her driving, now he's concerned about her well-being.

"I...uh…."

He looked over her face, professionally of course, for any injuries, "Are you hit anywhere?"

"No, no. I'm fine," the huntress-trainee shook herself out of her thoughts as she realized the awkward position they were in, "So, you wanna make the joke about finally being on top? Or should I?"

Wash simply pushed himself off, "Please don't."

Both turned their heads towards the sounds of weapons being aimed and saw a group of White Fang soldiers with rifles. The two ducked behind their cover, even more so since it was just a motorcycle that was their shield.

"They're shooting at us!" Yang glared at the terrorists, "I can't believe them!"

"That surprises you!?" Wash peaked out to aim his battle rifle.

"NO! I can't believe they're shooting at my bike," the fiery blonde's eyes turned red as she ripped off her helmet and threw it at one of the White Fang grunts.

"OW, my face!" the terrorist yelped before being shot in the shoulder by Wash.

Yang shook her fists at the rest of the squad, "You think you can just damage my new paint job!? WELL, DO YA!?"

The huntsman-trainee pulled her behind a car just before she met another hail of bullets, "There, now that they're shooting at us, you won't have to worry about your bike being scratched up."

"Hey!" the infuriated blonde argued, "Motorcycle repairs aren't cheap!"

 _WHAM-THUD-BOOM!_

Both turned towards the onslaught of noise and saw that the mech had somehow tripped. It soon crashed through the hard-light barriers, towards the ground level of the highway.

"YANG!" Weiss called to them as she and Blake prepared to jump, "Come on, Ruby is down there!"

Wash summoned his partner, "Epsilon, did you finish your scan of that thing?"

The sapphire fragment appeared in front of them, "Y _eah, the thing is called an Atlesian Paladin._ "

"Atlesian?" the huntsman-trainee raised a brow, "As in from Atlas?"

"Where did they get something like that?" Yang asked.

" _Black-market, underground connections, wishful thinking, who knows,_ " Epsilon shrugged, " _From what I can tell it looks like an early prototype. It's armor is tough all around, but it's weak at the joints and the cockpit if you strike with enough force._ "

Wash lowered their heads when he heard more gunfire, "You have to go!"

A concerned look fell on her face, "I can't just leave you here!"

"It's only a small squad, I've often faced worse," the ex-soldier pulled out his rifle magazine to check his ammo, "The others need you, and by the looks of it, enemy reinforcements will try to get in the way."

"But-!"

Wash immediately popped out of cover and opened fire, "GO! I'll keep them off your backs."

Yang stared at her friend, surprised at just how calm he was under all this noise. Maybe there are perks to taking things seriously.

"Okay," she sprinted towards the edge to join her team, "And my bike better be in one piece when I get back!"

* * *

 **Que: RVB OST- Revelation Suite**

* * *

 _BANG BANG!_

"AAH!" one of the White Fang screeched as he took a shot to both shoulders.

The squad of enemies returned fire as Wash slided into better cover. Yet under a hail of bullets, his training kept him from panicking. Instead he was feeling….nostalgic. He didn't know why, but Wash was feeling nostalgic. Was it because this is his first "mission" in a long time? Perhaps it was fighting the White Fang once again? Or maybe because, this is what he is good at?

" _Wash!_ " Epsilon warned, " _On your left!_ "

A White Fang grunt jumped onto the roof of a car, "DIE filthy human!"

It only took two rounds to the chest to send him tumbling back to the ground.

" _Roll right!_ "

The ex-freelancer evaded behind another car when he heard more gunshots. He quickly popped out of cover and returned the favor. Both terrorists used the car in front of them as a shield, waiting for the gunfire to stop. Wash then quickly fell back to reload.

"How many we've got?" he took out a fresh magazine.

" _Two down, four to go,_ " Epsilon reported, " _BEHIND YOU!_ "

Wash quickly turned and raised his rifle to block the sword coming down at him. The faunus snarled as he tried to push his blade deeper into his enemy's weapon. But Wash tilted his battle rifle causing his assailant to stumble to the ground. The Grimm mask on his face nearly shattered when Wash's rifle stock struck him.

The sapphire A.I.F. looked at the unconscious terrorist, " _Make that three._ "

The two White Fang who were in cover suddenly popped out and fired their rifles. Wash, surprisingly, ran forward as he fired his weapon which urged them to duck once again. He then slid against the hood of the car, kicking one of them in the face. The other faunus was too slow to react since she quickly received pistol rounds to her thigh and arm. Another two to the chest for the one on the ground.

"All right," Wash reloaded and holstered his sidearm, "Where's the last one?"

He received his answer when he felt his weapon leave his hands as he was suddenly put into a headlock. Wash repeatedly elbowed and even head-butted the White Fang in order to make him loosen his grip. The faunus terrorist eventually let go to caress his now broken nose, exposing his back to his opponent. Wash took the opportunity to place his own back against him and wrap his weapon around the White Fang's neck. He then pulled forward, sending the faunus flying over and onto the ground. A burst from his battle rifle into the terrorist's chest and stomach for good measure.

"I think that's all of them," Wash checked his ammo count, but then stopped when he noticed a red dot on his hand.

" _Not yet!_ " Epsilon shouted.

Not needing a second thought, he rolled over the car hood behind him to protect himself. Wash could feel the glass shards shower him as the bullets riddled his cover with holes. The gunfire finally stopped after an entire minute of continuous firing.

"Epsilon," the huntsman-trainee checked his battle rifle magazine, "Where'd those shots come from?"

" _They were coming at three different angles,_ " the A.I.F. appeared next to him, " _Simultaneously._ "

"Did you get a visual," Wash peaked out, but quickly pulled back when he heard more shots ricochet.

" _I can calculate their origin point from when they last fired._ "

"But they have most likely moved to a different position," Wash pointed out.

" _The firing pattern is different from the White Fang's. It's more coordinated, almost military. If you stick out even an inch you're head is gone._ "

"Which means we're pinned down with no idea where the enemy could be."

Epsilon raised his helmet towards his partner, " _Not unless you can find them without looking._ "

Wash just smirked back, "...You thinking what I'm thinking?"

" _That you should have found something less cheesy to say,_ " the A.I.F. deadpanned.

"I'll work on it," the huntsman-trainee began to focus his aura.

Like his time in the simulator, Wash could feel his senses become stronger. At first he was assaulted with the multiple sounds and smells that surrounded him. There were civilians screaming for help as they tried to run away. Some were banging against their car doors when they refused to free them. The scent of gasoline that was leaking from heavily damaged vehicles and smoke from the ones already ablaze. It was unlike anything he ever experienced,...but this isn't what he wants.

He concentrated more into his hearing as he tried to find any clue to the shooters' locations. The hundreds of sounds began to die out as certain ones became a lot more clearer. The metal of a car roof bending under the weight of a person. Small shards of glass being slowly crushed under someone's foot. The sound of someone's breath as they passed through an air filter.

" _Everyone in position?_ " a voice, male, asked into his radio.

A woman answered, " _In position._ "

" _In position,_ " another male did the same.

Wash just smiled proudly, "Found you."

First one was kneeling atop a van down range, "On my mark, we open fire on the gas tank. Three-."

 _BANG BANG!_

"GAAH!"

Wash heard the armor fall on top of the road.

The woman was on the left next to a car with shattered windows, "What the hell-!?"

 _BANG BANG!_

"AAAHH!"

Her body slumped against the vehicle.

Third tango on the right was too impulsive, "You son of a-!"

 _BANG BANG BANG!_

He collapsed onto the asphalt face first like a ragdoll.

" _Okay,_ " Epsilon whistled at the amazing feat, " _Now that was impressive._ "

"I'm moving in to get a closer look," Wash kept his battle rifle aimed as he approached the third body and kicked him over.

His heart dropped when he recognized the armor. It was of Gulch origin, but it didn't resemble any military unit he was familiar with. A mercenary perhaps? Then again most mercenaries don't carry this kind of equipment, much less one that makes them invisible.

Wash kept the unconscious soldier's head in his crosshairs, "Bioscan, now."

" _On it_ ," the A.I.F. used his partner's sunglasses to scan the mercenary, " _He's human, carrying military grade tech,...and a cloaking module._ "

"I can see that," Wash glared at the contraption.

" _No way the White Fang would work with these guys. And where the hell did he get all this gear from?_ "

"You already know the answer to that?" the ex-freelancer stated grimly

" _...Yeah….Yeah you're right,_ " Epsilon took the hint and wiped his visor; but his tone then brightened, if only slightly, " _If it isn't anymore obvious, they've obviously made some improvements after we left. I'm not detecting any A.I.s in his armor, not even a fragment._ "

"And he was able to cloak for more than a minute?" Wash widened his eyes, "How can-!?"

He didn't get the chance to finish his question as he felt someone grab him by his hoodie and throw him away from the body. Wash could feel his back make contact with something metal as more shards and debris wrap around him. He fell onto his hands and knees trying to get back the wind that was knocked out of him. If it wasn't for his Aura, as well as his body armor, than his spine would have most likely been broken.

"Gaah-what the-!?" Wash coughed as he looked at his attacker.

The man stood over his unconscious comrade, wearing a set of armor that was different from the other mercenaries. His gear was the same shade of gray only it had green trims on every piece. Including the "X"-symbol on his helmet. Parts of it seemed to protect his body much better than the others, meaning it was of higher quality. Wash could only deduce that he was someone of higher rank or maybe even the leader. He had a magnum magnetically attached to his thigh, an M739 machine gun on his back, and Wash's battle rifle in hand.

The mercenary pulled out the magazine and examined the remaining rounds.

"...Interesting," he stated plainly.

The huntsman-trainee quickly drew his own sidearm, not wasting another second, and aimed for his leg. But the mercenary only side-stepped before charging forward. Wash then launched himself off the ground as he tried to knee the mercenary in the stomach. Sadly he blocked with both his forearms to stop the impact. Wash tried to strike with a left hook, but he intercepted with another block; urging the ex-freelancer to aim from the hip as he hoped to at least hit his thigh. But then the mercenary grabbed his wrist, the enhanced strength provided by his suit nearly crushing it.

"GAH!" Wash screamed as he was forced to drop his weapon.

"You're holding back," the mercenary stated bitterly, "Aren't you?"

"Wh-Wha-OOF!?"

He was interrupted by a kick to the stomach, sending him back into the very same van he flew into. The mercenary didn't even give him time to counter since he already placed his gauntlet against his throat.

"Showing mercy to the enemy is the greatest mistake on battlefield," he glared through his visor, "You're a disgrace as a Gulch soldier."

Wash's eyes widened in shock, "How do you-!?"

"You use our nation's weapons against your fellow soldiers, do you honestly think I wouldn't notice?" he pushed his gauntlet deeper, "But what bothers me more is the fact that you used non-lethal rounds on your enemies. Why?"

The former-military operative simply coughed in defiance.

"Were you ordered to show mercy?" he pressed harder, "Or are you just denying who you are?"

"I-I," Wash secretly reached for his knife behind his waist, "DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER!"

He quickly slashed towards the mercenaries stomach. But the attempt was fruitless as the mercenary backed away. At least it freed Wash's windpipe. The two soldiers resumed their one-sided duel with Wash on the offensive with his ka-bar knife and the mercenary dodging and blocking his attacks. Whether it was from growing exhaustion or paranoia, something did not feel right to Wash. Not once did his opponent try to counter or even step back far enough to use his LMG.

Was he just toying with him? No, he didn't sound like he was enjoying his suffering. It seemed more like he was questioning him. Then is he just gauging his abilities? That would make more sense, but now that he knows this, the mercenary will only be more prepared the next time they face each other. That is if Wash would make it through this.

He had to end this here and now.

"RAAH!" the ex-freelancer yelled as he delivered a roundhouse kick with his right leg.

The mercenary blocked with his arm which distracted him enough for Wash to twirl his knife into a reverse-grip and do an overhead stab into his visor. But like many times before, his attack was intercepted, and Wash found himself flying through the air….and instantly landing on asphalt.

He tried to re-orient himself, but Wash soon felt a metal boot being firmly planted on his right shoulder, keeping him from using his arm. His left was not much help either as it was being twisted by the mercenary's hands.

"Despite the impressive skill you show at your age, you still have much to learn," he lectured.

Wash growled back, "Sorry...to disappoint."

"Though you prefer to fight from mid to long range, you show an adequate amount of experience in CQC," the mercenary continued, "However, when faced with lowered chances of success and/or survival, you act reckless and desperate. That is why you are in this position."

" _Is this guy seriously giving you a lecture right now?_ " Epsilon deadpanned.

" _Well if you're not too busy listening,"_ Wash mentally barked at his A.I.F., " _Why don't you help me!?_ "

" _And do what exactly!? It's not like I can….hold up. I'm going to try something, just wait a minute._ "

" _Not like I'm doing much anyway._ "

"So are you going somewhere with this?" Wash taunted, "Or are you really testing if you can actually talk someone to death?"

"Witty one-liners are irrelevant in battle," the mercenary twisted the huntsman-trainee's wrist slightly earning a suppressed whine, "You've only proven more to me how much you have forsaken your identity."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I noticed your fighting style when I watched how you handled the White Fang and my men. You maintained your momentum, not staying in cover for too long, and even if you didn't want to kill them, I could tell you aimed for areas where it would at least hurt the most."

Wash's eyes widened in horror, " _How does he-!?_ "

"Only one military unit uses tactics like yours. An elite squad that fought with the perfect balance in efficiency and brutality. Some even whispered that they could even be on par with the Spartans."

" _No,_ " he could feel the sweat forming on his brow, " _No he couldn't-!?_ "

"They may have gone rogue, but I still respect their ability to fulfill their objective."

" _He knows!_ "

"But seeing one of you here, fighting alongside foreigners, only makes me want to ask you: Which are you? Huntsman?" the mercenary lowered himself until his visor and Wash's sunglasses were only inches apart, "Or soldier?"

A blue light suddenly went off, enveloping both combatants. The mercenary stumbled back stunned as he felt parts of his armor let off sparks from the blast.

 _BAM!_

Wash took the chance and kicked him straight in the faceplate. He quickly rolled to his magnum and grabbed it prepared to fire. The two had their weapons aimed at each other, staring down their respective sights as they waited to see who would react first. The ex-freelancer felt compelled to pull the trigger; that is until he saw the three laser sights aimed at his chest, forehead, and between his eyes.

* * *

 **End: RVB OST- Revelation Suite**

* * *

"Don't make any sudden movements," the mercenary's team slowly formed up around him after regaining consciousness.

"Report," the head mercenary asked.

The female soldier answered first, "The paladin was destroyed by the children sir. Roman is already exfiltrating from the area."

As if on que, a bullhead rose up from the ground level and flew off.

"...Unfortunate," the lead mercenary lowered his weapon as he stared at the fleeing dropship, "We're pulling out."

"What about him?" one of his men motioned towards Wash.

"Leave him. Our orders were to protect the paladin," he growled, "And we failed."

"But-!" another soldier-for-hire protested, but was silenced by the lead mercenary's glare, "Yes sir."

One by one they activated their camo units until it was just Washington and the mercenary.

"...Locus," he spoke first.

The ex-freelancer stared at him confused, "What?"

"My name," the mercenary repeated, "Is Locus."

Wash just kept his hands steady, "Why are you telling me this?"

"In the old days, during times of war, it wasn't uncommon for a soldier to find an adversary on the battlefield. When we meet again, and rest assure that it will happen, I want you to know the name of the true soldier who will kill you," he turned away as his body began to disappear, but not until he glanced back, "I look forward to your answer before then."

Wash let out the sigh he was holding when he fell to his knees from exhaustion. He never thought he would be this rusty on a mission. Though, if he were to take what he heard as true, then it should be considered partially a success.

" _You okay?_ " Epsilon finally came online.

"Yeah," the huntsman-trainee picked himself up, "Yeah….I'm fine. What did you just do?"

" _I'll explain later,_ " the A.I.F. waved off the question, " _Right now, we have to get going._ "

Wash ran towards where they last saw Yang's motorcycle, "More enemy contacts?"

" _No, law enforcement. I'm picking up a lot of radio chatter and they're just now getting ready to move out. Plus I don't think Beacon is going to pay for all this property damage if we stick around._ "

"How long until they get here?"

" _About ten minutes. Plenty of time to hop on Bumblebeee and ride….on….outta….here._ "

Both stopped in their tracks as they stared at what was supposed to be their getaway vehicle, but were greeted by a yellow sports bike riddled with bullet holes. Most of the damage seemed to be on the right side where the White Fang shot at them. Thankfully there didn't seem to be any gas leaking, plus the headlight was in perfect condition. But that wasn't what worried them. It was how the owner was going to take the news that her ride may not be able to work again.

" _The-The damage doesn't look too bad,_ " Epsilon tried to reassure his partner, " _Cover it with some fresh paint and give it a full tank and she'll spend days trying to find the difference._ "

The motorcycle then tipped over when a small explosion ignited in the engine.

" _Okay maybe add some spare parts to the list._ "

Wash buried his face into his palm as this will be the only time he'll ever feel safe again.

"Yang is not going to be happy."

* * *

 **A/N: I originally wanted to put these chapters together, but whether it was because of my computer or the website, I couldn't. Just another heads up, I'm going to be very busy for a while and you probably won't seen any updates until spring or maybe as late as summer.**

 **GaryOkampo logging off...**

 **[CONNECTION TERMINATED]**


	7. Point-And-Shoot

**A/N: [CONNECTION ESTABLISHED]**

 **GaryOkampo logging on...**

 **I'm back everyone!**

 **Apologies are definitely in order for leaving all of you guys hanging for at least two months. I was busy with other things and in that time I developed a little bit of writer's block. It took me awhile, but I at least finished this chapter.**

 **On another note, I'm starting a side project of re-writing the first volume. I'm not going to republish a new story, just replacing the old chapters with new ones. Their is no definite schedule to the updates, only whenever I feel like it or I need a break.**

 **Hopefully you guys aren't still mad at me.**

 **Omega: Oh they are. I can FEEL their anger!**

* * *

 _Journal Entry 106_

 _Subject: Gulch Mercenaries_

 _Call them whatever you want: mercenary guilds, private military corporations, it doesn't matter. What does matter, is that you can tell which ones are trustworthy. There are the ones that are formed after hundreds of piles of paperwork and approval. Things such as promising that they are legally and privately funded, mostly composed of veterans or adrenaline-junky-privates. They are the ones often hired by corporate big-shots for bodyguard work or as security for small towns the regular army can't reach._

 _However, there are also those who refuse to follow the proper channels. These groups are made up of people who were kicked-out of the military or just plain-old criminals. Acting more like gangsters rather than soldiers, calling them mercenaries would be considered a compliment. Most of the time they are hired by people who either want someone dead, at least beaten near death, or any other questionable missions. Add the complete disregard for loyalty, it shouldn't be surprising to hear about a PMC tear itself apart because one member was offered more money. Or sometimes be taken out and/or consumed by a larger guild._

 _It's this disorder and lack of unity that keeps the PMCs from becoming anything more than just bands of misfits. Let's be glad that they'll shoot each other rather than cooperate. Because if they did, then the White Fang would be the least of our worries._

* * *

 **Vale: Agricultural District...**

When you've been a soldier for most of your life, it's only natural that adjusting to civilian life is an uphill battle. For some they find the will to finally drop their gun and enjoy the peace they fought and bled for. For others, the ones whose grips were too tight, they felt more alive on a battlefield than sitting on the porch. Times of peace were like a recession to mercenaries like Jackson. Nothing to do but polish your weapon while the people look at you like your a ticking-PTSD-bomb of crazy. That's why he jumped at the chance of joining Locus' mercenary guild. He could pay the bills and, if he was a romantic, be with people who were like him.

Sort of.

They were the second to arrive at the abandoned train depot at the edge of the city. It used to be part of a massive project to expand the kingdom's subway system underground. But it was soon cancelled when the Grimm constantly destroyed the equipment and killed the workers. The tunnels were eventually sealed off and the construction of the stations halted, leaving them to be abandoned and used by people of a shady-variety.

Now here they were, a wanted man and a team of mercenaries waiting in what was supposed to be humanity's first step of expansion. Now it's a half-finished building with it's iron-rusted skeleton exposed. Scaffolding lie scattered about along with the plastic tarps as a massive veil. The skylights that weren't shattered are covered in dirt and mold. To top it all off, the abandoned depot is full of train cars that were thrown away before they could even be used.

Roman wanted to be by himself as he vented out his frustrations with a cigar in some dark corner. Locus sat against a wooden crate, checking his ammo count and prepping his weapon like always. Jackson himself had been on enough missions with the veteran mercenary to notice something is wrong with his de-facto CO. They weren't close on a personal level, since Locus was never the friendly sort, but the older mercenary can tell as much.

"I don't suppose they'll give us at least 85% of our cut? Right?"

Jackson turned towards one of the train cars and saw Sam leaning against it. The kid was trying another one of his playful "flirtations" with Laura. However, the female mercenary didn't answer.

"Seventy-five? Fifty? Please don't make it 30%," Sam nudged her with his elbow, "Maybe we can combine our wages and hit up a few drinks. Always wanted to try foreign beer, or whatever shit they have. Whaddya say?"

"I'd rather kiss a beowolf," Laura gnarled.

"Oooh~," the younger merc whistled, "Didn't know you have a kinky side."

"Would you, just for once, shut the hell up!" Laura half-barked to keep herself from shouting, "Or do you really want to make this situation worse?"

"How can this get worse?" Sam chuckled.

Laura clicked her tongue in disgust, "Damn greenhorns."

"Hey!" Sam argued, "I've got a few kills under my belt, I'm just as green as the Chief!"

"Too bad you don't have his silent demeanor. Though even then I doubt you can tell what's going on," she stared at the two older mercenaries in front of them, "We just failed a mission….under Locus' command."

"So?"

"Locus rarely, if ever, fails a mission."

"I'm sure any merc would be pissed if he didn't get paid," Sam continued to flap his gums, "I know I would."

The young mercenary enjoyed being the stereotypical gun-for-hire. It didn't matter how dangerous or immoral the job was, as long as he got to use his earnings to buy more beer, women, or whatever for himself. Laura on the other hand was obviously the opposite. Stern, collected, followed orders regardless. Some said she's like a female version of their boss, only more talkative.

"No, Locus doesn't do this for the money," the female mercenary sighed, "He….He….I don't know why he does this. He's just good at it, and he expects us to be the same."

"I still don't get why this puts us in 'big trouble'."

"Then let me make it simple for you. The last person who pissed him off, Locus took the guy's own shotgun and shoved it down his throat before pulling the trigger."

"You can't be serious," Sam laughed at the supposed cautionary-tale, "That's just a story they tell in the barracks….right?"

Laura simply glared through her visor.

Jackson found it almost entertaining to see the young merc's posture change from confident and uncaring to terrified. Although Laura too had some holes in her story. She was right about the time when a rookie costed them a mission for disobeying orders a few years back. However Locus didn't take the kid's shotgun and made him eat it. He just ripped it out of his hands and fired point-blank into his face. He knows this because he was there when it happened.

The young mercenary cautiously rubbed his throat with a swallow, "...Saying….that he is in a bad mood; there any way to make him, ya know, less angry?"

Laura was most likely smirking under her helmet right now, "Don't worry. He won't let it out on you, probably. But if Jackson can't calm him down, than I feel a little sorry for mister bowler-hat."

The older mercenary wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose at the apparent job title he was given. Since when has he been Locus' handler. Sure he's one of the few who worked with him the longest, but did he really have that kind of effect on him. What makes them so sure that Locus is in a bad mood right now? Or if he is, Jackson is most likely to be the one shot in the face. He sighed to himself before heading out, knowing he should have retired to Florida like his ex-wife said.

Locus looked up from his weapon when he saw one of his oldest partners approach him, "Jackson."

"Locus," his posture straightened on instinct, "I've heard from the rest of the team that they are worried about this job's payment."

The veteran mercenary glanced at the two other squad members who are probably sweating inside their armors. Laura gave a curt nod while Sam nervously waved back.

"Our payment is determined by our performance in the field. Complaining for the usual amount after a failed mission will do nothing. What they receive is what they get," he growled through his helmet, "Tell them that."

"Y-Yes sir," Jackson wracked his fingers against his sniper rifle, "Also….permission to speak freely."

Locus completed the task of loading new rounds into his magazine, "What is it?"

"Are you, okay sir?"

Locus' hands froze for the briefest of seconds before re-loading his SAW, "Excuse me?"

"You just seem….irritated," the older mercenary looked around cautiously before continuing, "Did something on the highway bother you?"

"In a way," Locus answered rather simply.

"If it was our performance, then let me apologize for-"

"You underestimated your opponent," the veteran mercenary checked the sights on his primary, "A soldier of your caliber should never make that sort of mistake."

Jackson lowered his head, "I-It won't happen again."

The doors to the train depot were slammed open in order to grab everyone's attention. Everyone could see the blue armor plates reflecting the moonlight. The man's silver visor looking over each and every one of them. With a steel briefcase tightly gripped at his side.

"Hello everyone," Agent Florida greeted them happily, "Did you all have fun tonight?"

* * *

There are stories of people who have spent so much time on the battlefield, that they develop a sort of sixth sense. Tales of soldiers finding explosives buried under roads to hearing the breathing of an enemy sniper and such. But the most popular of them all, as well as upsetting, is to be able to "smell the blood" off of friend and foe alike. It shouldn't be a surprise that Locus never believed in anything without facts. However he isn't deaf, and he's heard the men whisper that he had that sort of nose. And they aren't entirely wrong.

Locus had seen and dealt with a large share of people with questionable backgrounds. Afterall, who else can mercenaries like him turn to for work? He had met crime bosses, shady businessman, fellow PMCs, and even a couple of terrorists. Each one giving off a "scent" that would make any man's skin crawl. But not Locus, only a small few can make him feel anxious. One of whom just so happens to be standing in front of him.

Agent Florida is the kind of man who is difficult to comprehend. Any attempts before were met with confusion. His personality made it easy for anyone to drop their defenses around him. However, to veterans like Locus, it just makes them feel uncomfortable. Combat wise is a complete mystery, since he never worked with a Freelancer before. But, if he were forced to admit it, Locus could "smell the blood" on his armor. Each step Florida took towards them urged the veteran mercenary to keep his machine gun ready. Whatever is in that briefcase didn't help either. When he saw the blue freelancer's hand move to his waist, Locus thought he was going for the collapsible tomahawk, deciding to cut them down for their failure. It wasn't until he saw a communication device drawn from one of the compartments in his armor that his grip loosened.

Agent Florida tapped the keys on the touchscreen before bringing it to his ears. Everyone else waited with anticipation when they heard the dial tone repeat itself.

"...Hello~!" the blue freelancer happily announced into the speaker, "This is your friendly neighborhood florist. Might I interest you in a bouquet of flowers?"

"..."

"Perhaps some hydrangeas are in order?" he continued with his joke.

The team of mercenaries and thief glanced at each other confused.

"What's with this guy?" Sam muttered.

"Rest assured that we have all your flowers for your choosing," Agent Florida continued.

"..."

"But of course," he motioned Roman to come forward, "She wants to speak with you."

The infamous criminal took one long, final drag from his cigar before stomping it out. He straightened his outfit before taking the device from Florida and walked off to separate himself from the group. Locus couldn't hear who was on the other side, but apparently _she_ isn't happy. As from the constant excuses Roman let out to cover up his failure.

Florida took that time to approach him, "Locus."

"Agent Florida," the veteran mercenary greeted back.

"How's my favorite little soldier?" the freelancer agent asked.

The veteran mercenary controlled his snarl at the nickname, "The mission….was a failure."

Agent Florida just chuckled, "I know that; but our bosses want to know the who, what, and why."

"...It was two individuals," Locus reported, "They blended into the crowd wearing the masks the White Fang were giving out to the recruits. When they discovered their cover was blown, one of them aimed for the fuse box causing a black-out and escaped through the commotion."

"Very sneaky," Agent Florida placed a hand under his chin, "And then?"

"As you may already know, when Roman impulsively took the Paladin and chased after them, my team and I followed in order to convince him to turn back. That is until he made it to the highway."

"We've seen the news reports," the blue freelancer nodded, "Atlas is trying to cover up the fact that one of their prototypes just went on a rampage across the city. Right now they're officially stating that it was a raid on a terrorist hideout and that one of the members caused a ruckus when fleeing the scene. However my one question is who destroyed it?"

"Jackson reported that it was a fireteam of huntresses, composed of children in their mid to late-teens."

The blue freelancer snickered before he started to laugh, "Y-You're saying a bunch of kids reduced a massive-sized-battle armor to scrap? Even if they are kids, it seems the stories about them are true," he then cleared his throat before continuing, "Did you get a good look of their faces?"

"Unfortunately the huntresses had back up on the highway and subdued my men before they could compile a description."

"Oh~," Agent Florida's interest piqued, "And what were they like?"

Locus flashed back to his battle with the young agent. From what he saw, he had not lost his touch as a marksman. His only complaint was that the former freelancer was intentionally holding back. And he had also grown to be too emotional, grown soft. Unfortunate.

"They were very skilled," Locus answered.

"Care to give me a description of him at least?"

"...His face was covered."

"I see," the blue freelancer approached a nearby crate and placed the steel briefcase on top, "The Director is still willing to pay the full amount for your services, despite the outcome of this mission."

"On what condition?" Locus stared at the freelancer suspiciously.

"Very astute for a hired gun," Florida seemed to be smirking under his helmet, "We will pay you fully and with a bonus, provided you do a little extra for us."

The veteran mercenary straightened, "What are your orders?"

"I want you to head to the operations base in the south-east," Florida turned to the small keypad on the briefcase and punched the combination.

"You want me and my men to make sure everything runs smoothly?"

"Yes, but also no," Florida unlocked the two clamps, "Project Freelancer likes to be prepared for any outcome. After tonight's events they believe that it's only a matter of time until that place too is compromised. This will be a solo mission, well not really a mission, more like a field test."

Locus questioned the choice of words, "A field test?"

The blue freelance motioned him to come forward as he opened the briefcase. Even if it was just a crack, something was shining brightly inside. At first he thought it was a grenade, but the odd shape shattered that theory. That and most explosives don't glow with a pulse.

"What is it?" the mercenary stared at the object.

"It…," Agent Florida immediately closed it back up, "Is the prototype for a new equipment we plan to produce. It's already passed the preliminary trials, all we need now is to see how it handles in the field."

"And I'm the test subject," Locus stated disapprovingly, insulted that he was being treated like a lab rat.

"Oh no no no no," the blue freelancer waved his hands defensively, "We've already tested it on living things. Just not people….yet."

Locus switched looks between Florida and the briefcase, "I accept."

"Fantastic!" the blue freelancer clapped happily, "Oh! One more thing. We're having some trouble with maintaining the power. So I recommend using it only in emergencies."

Locus nodded as he grabbed the briefcase handle, "Understood."

"The instructions are in the case," Florida continued, "If you have any other questions, please don't hesitate to ask."

Locus turned to the freelancer, "There is one."

"Yes?"

"How do we deal with Project Freelancer's enemies."

Agent Florida fell silent for what seemed like an hour, "...I'm not sure what you mean?"

Locus felt like the atmosphere around the blue freelancer was changing, "You are a former-high-level military project that is still able to function, even after being declared a rogue unit. Surely there are many who want nothing more than your capture?"

"Naturally we want them taken care of," the blue agent of the "rogue unit" shrugged, "So if you think they are a threat to us, then you are free to deal with them as you see fit."

The mercenary nodded, "What about persons of interest?"

"That….is a different story," the blue freelancer pointed out, "We are currently keeping tabs on some certain individuals, so you don't need to worry about them."

"What if we see them in the field?"

"Well," Florida snickered, placing his hands on his hips, "That would require you knowing who we're looking for."

"..."

"..."

"Tell me something," the agent asked genuinely curious, "Why?"

"This failure happened because I was...unprepared. It has put a blemish on my record," Locus rumbled through his helmet, "That is something I will never let happen again."

The two soldiers stared at each other through their visors, waiting to see who would react first. That was the downside to constantly wearing these helmets. You can never tell what a person is thinking or gauge their reactions. All you see in front of you is a suit of armor with a gun.

Florida makes the first move as he tapped the sides of his helmet, "I've been ordered not to share this information. But, I think this will do more good for you than me."

Locus jerked his head in shock, "You're disobeying orders!?"

"Does that surprise you?" the blue freelancer gave a side-ways glance.

"You are a soldier," the mercenary stated, "You are meant to-!"

"Follow orders?" Florida finished his sentence with a shrug, "True. But wouldn't it be more fun when you spread around random seeds, and see what pops out of the ground?"

The mercenary wanted to press the issue, but was interrupted when his visor notified him of a new file sent to his personal inbox. His clock told him that dawn is nearly approaching and the more he stands here talking, the more time he wastes.

"I….Thank you for the opportunity," Locus straightened his posture, "My men will return to base and I'll head towards Mt. Glenn."

Agent Florida gave an uncharacteristically professional salute, "Best of luck to you on your _mission_."

The veteran mercenary returned to his team, filling them in on the situation. Needless to say, the group was surprised to be still paid in full. Sam being more ecstatic when he heard that they were on stand-by. Which in his mind means a vacation. Jackson and Laura, however, were concerned with the idea of their leader heading to heavily infested Grimm territory alone. But Locus quickly reminded them that they were soldiers. They followed orders.

* * *

 **A/N: Hopefully you all will take this as proof that I'm still here typing. Stay tuned for the next chapter.**

 **GaryOkampo logging off...**

 **[CONNECTION TERMINATED]**


	8. A Kind Ear

**A/N: [CONNECTION ESTABLISHED]**

 **GaryOkampo logging on...**

 **I'd first like to apologize to all my readers for taking so long. This chapter has a lot of dialogue and it was difficult trying to make it all flow together while at the same time trying to not make it sound boring. I do hope that this will re-capture your interest in my story.**

 **GaryOkampo logging off...**

 **[CONNECTION TERMINATED]**

* * *

 _Journal Entry 107_

 _Subject: Team JNPR_

 _Although they lack the same amount of experience as RWBY, the members of team JNPR show just as much promise as the others._

 _At the beginning of the year, Jaune barely knew how to use a sword, much less throw a grenade( **E: Let it go!** ). But now he's able to hold himself in battle. A one-on-one fight just to be clear. He has a long way to go before he can take on a pack of Grimm. It's almost a blessing that he has Pyrrha for a partner. She makes up for Jaune's…."shortcomings" with her expertise in combat and strategy. Though I sometimes wonder why she is so contempt with being a huntress instead of the greatest huntress of her generation. Perhaps she has her own reasons._

 _Strange enough, I don't know much about possibly the most "vocal" person in the school. Nora Valkyrie doesn't talk much about her family or past, only that she has a close relationship with her partner Ren. Speaking of; he himself is a text-book definition of the "strong-silent" type, only speaks when spoken too and most of his conversations are with Nora. Or rather trying to stop her from eating everyone's share of his cooking._ _I believe it would be better to slowly get to know them rather than asking them upfront._

 _Even so, team JNPR has yet to work in the field and I'll have to see how they do under duress._

* * *

Everytime he swung his knife, it just felt heavier than before. No matter how many times he struck, his opponent either dodged or hit back harder than before. Each second that past transformed his adrenaline into anxiety and then to desperation. Like any desperate man, he put his all into one final strike in order to end it quickly. Only his opponent, like many times before, stood his ground and threw him onto the concrete. He could feel his arm being twisted to the point it was almost being pulled out of the socket. No one could hear him scream, completely at his mercy.

"Tell me," the attacker continued to look down on him, "What is your answer? Huntsman? Or soldier?"

The synapses in his brain were going off like fireworks. Yet in the chaos of his mind, he couldn't find an answer.

"I….I…."

"Tell me," the mercenary twisted harder, "Who. Are. You?"

 _KRAK!_

"GAAAHHAA!" he screamed until his lungs began to burn, "I DON'T KNOW OKAY! I DON'T KNOW!"

"...I see."

His arm was finally released, giving him the chance to cradle his damaged ligament. Not that it would do any good.

"In the end, you could never give me an answer," Locus sounded as if he was disappointed, "Unfortunate."

He drew the magnum at his hip, repositioning himself so he could have a better shot between the ex-freelancer's eyes.

"But I now know one thing," Locus coldly stated, "You are a failure as both, Agent Washington."

* * *

 _WHAM!_

"WASHINGTON!"

"HUH! WHA!?"

The huntsman-trainee frantically looked over his surroundings, his battle on the highway replaced with his history class. He could see Nora and Ren in the row ahead looking over him with concern. The rest of the class all stare at him strangely. Professor Oobleck, however, is rapidly tapping his foot in disapproval.

"Mr. Washington," the teacher crossed his arms with a frown, "Care to provide an answer?"

"I-I….um," Wash calmed his ragged breathing, "I-I'm sorry, what was the question?"

The entire lecture hall snickered at his reaction, except the professor, who was shaking his head until everyone heard the bell ring.

"That is all for today," Oobleck announced to his students, "Please take heed that even though the dance is in two days, I recommend preparing for your first mission on Monday before hand."

Some of the students silently took the advice, while others were more pre-occupied with other things. After all, many of them still had to pick out what dress to wear or how to ask out there certain someone to said dance. Although some are looking forward for what happens after their special night.

Nora, specifically, was practically bouncing in her seat, "Oooh~, I can't WAIT for Monday. I know that's something you don't hear most people say, but it's our FIRST mission as huntsmen!"

"Huntsmen-trainees," Ren corrected.

"What do you think we'll do first: infiltrate enemy territory by skydiving, barely escape a nuclear explosion, assassinate a ruthless warlord while riding a velociraptor over a rainbow!?"

Wash and Ren glanced at each other as they heard Nora ramble about her fantasies.

The ex-freelancer's eyebrows furrowed at the odd girl, "None of those sound like things huntsmen do."

"She's been watching action movies for the past few days," Ren explained, not even bothered by her behavior.

"What about that thing with the raptor and the rainbow?"

The martial-artist deadpanned, "I didn't say they were good movies."

"Have no fear Ren!" the hammer-girl wrapped a tight arm around him, the other sweeping through the air, "Because tonight, we're gonna watch westerns!" she turned to their older teammate with a smile, "Wanna join us Wash?"

"Sorry, I can't," Wash packed his things into his schoolbag, "I have to meet with team RWBY."

"Really~?" the hyperactive huntress suddenly dashed to the ex-freelancer, suggestively raising her eyebrows, "You planning to ask a certain _somebody_ to the dance? And by somebody, I mean a _certain girl~_? And by a certain girl, I mean someone with _blonde hair~_?"

Wash rolled his eyes at her way of questioning, "It's not like that. Right now we're currently….dealing with….stuff."

"Oh, I totally understand," Nora placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a sympathetic nod, "Everyone goes through a rough patch in a relationship. Me and Ren have had our fair share, but not like the way you're thinking. Cause we don't exactly have _that_ kind of relationship, because we are _not in_ that kind of relationship. But even if we are _not in_ that sort of relationship we still-."

"Nora!" Ren stops her rambling before it starts.

The hyperactive girl blushed, "Oh, sorry."

"Mr. Washington," Professor Oobleck called out to them before they left, "Can you please spare moment. I would like to have a word with you."

"Of course sir," the huntsman-trainee turned to his friends, "You guys go ahead, I'll see you later."

"Give her some flowers and chocolate, that usually makes girls happy," Nora quickly slammed her fist into the palm of her hand, "No wait! This is Yang we're talking about. Get her a punching bag! Scratch that, FIVE punching bags!"

Wash simply frowned, "I'm not even going to ask why."

"Well duuhh~. Two for punching, Two for kicking, and one for head-butting!" the hammer-wielder winked before taking her childhood friend's arm, "Come on Ren, let's start our movie marathon with 'A Fistful of Lien'. It's a Phlint Eastwood classic!"

"I'll make the pancakes," the green-gunslinger sighed.

Nora licked her lips as they ran off, "Make sure you put in lots of syrup."

Wash stepped towards the center of the lecture hall while the professor looked over his blackboard. Though all the newspaper clippings and red strings make it look more like something you would find in a conspiracy theorist's apartment. Even so, the whole atmosphere made Wash feel like he was standing in front of someone with a higher rank. He actually had to fight the urge to stand at attention when Professor Oobleck turned to him.

He pushed up his glasses before stepping around his desk, "You fascinate me Mr. Washington."

"Um….," Wash cautiously narrowed his eyes, "Thank you?"

The professor began to pace rapidly back and forth, "At first I considered you were one of those 'delinquent' like students who like to be the 'bad boy' as the kids say I believe. But my assumptions were proven wrong when I saw how diligent you have been in your work. Especially when we covered the Great War, and even more so during discussions about Gulch. Then again I shouldn't have expected no less. After all….," he then abruptly stopped, turning his head only enough to see his cheek, "You are from there."

Washington was caught off-guard for a second, but gritted his teeth out of frustration. All these months among civilians and his growing connection with his teammates is probably making him lose his edge. He really is getting sloppy.

"How did you know?" Wash glared at the huntsman.

"I assure you that you did quite well in hiding your heritage. Any other history professor wouldn't have noticed, or just assumed you _really_ like military memorabilia, if not for some minor clues," Professor Oobleck began to count off his fingers, "Your remarkably high scores on military history, than there is your reaction when Ms. Schnee called your people savages, BUT the biggest indication is your stance whenever you address me; as it is slightly similar to how one addresses a superior officer."

The professor suddenly dashed forward, stopping at the last second which causes Wash to lean back, "Meaning you are not only a Gulch native, BUT also a former soldier," Oobleck leaned in closer, "BUT, you're steps to making yourself a small presence means you are involved in a rather strenuous situation," and closer, "BUT, you being able attend a huntsmen academy means that there are powerful forces that a mere huntsman like me can comprehend," and closer until both of them were staring at each other through their respective lenses, "BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY!"

Wash felt the need to gulp in order to prepare for what was coming.

The professor, shockingly, asked slowly, "Do you realize….the position….you have put me in?"

The Gulch native averted his gaze, "I-WOAH!"

He suddenly found himself being lifted into the air by his biceps and spun around in a circle by the deceptively strong professor.

"You have quite possibly put me in the most-exciting-historical-educational-interview ever of all time!" Oobleck cheered gleefully, "Long have I wanted to study your people, but research is so rare to find and quality is rather sloppy at best. And I can't visit your country because they won't let outsiders in, especially huntsmen. Yet here you are, a Gulch soldier standing right before me. I have so many questions. How was your country founded? How can your economy survive without trading with the other kingdoms? What is your government structure like? How did your people survive the Great War? WHAT IS THE QUALITY OF YOUR COFFEE!?"

It took Wash a while to take in what he was hearing. Only able to catch every fourth word and something about coffee.

"Um, professor-?"

"No wait!" the hyperactive teacher abruptly looked away, "This isn't what I wanted to talk about."

He then dropped his potential interviewee.

"OOF!"

" Ahem Forgive me," Professor Oobleck cleared his throat, "History is both a subject I teach as well as a hobby. I let my excitement get the better of me earlier."

"I understand," Wash picked himself up and dusted his slacks, "But I don't think I should be the one to be interviewed. You can ask the other Gulch students or even one of the instructors. Not all of us are…." the Gulch native tried to find an appropriate(non-demeaning) word, "... _cautious_ around foreigners."

"Thank you for the advice. But for now I must speak to you as one of your teachers," the professor's expression and tone became serious, "I've noticed that you have been rather distracted lately."

Wash placed his hands at his sides, "I-It's nothing. I just….have some things on my mind."

Professor Oobleck tapped his finger against his chin, "Yes, yes. Peter did mention that you tended to do so during your first months here. Have you spoken to anyone about this? Your teammates perhaps?"

"N-Not really," the ex-freelancer scratched the back of his neck, "It's more of a _personal_ matter."

"I see," the experienced huntsmen nodded, "I may not know about your situation, but something tells me it must be difficult finding an authoritative figure to console with. Even so, I do hope this means you can consider me a professor you can trust. It is best to have a steady mind since your first mission as a huntsman draws near. You must be prepared for anything."

"It won't come to that sir," Wash stated.

"I should expect nothing less," the huntsman then leaned forward with a threat, "But be warned. If I catch you daydreaming in my class again, I will make you take off those sunglasses and hat."

The huntsman-trainee straightened, "Yes sir."

"And stop calling me 'sir'! I am not a general," Oobleck demanded, "I am a professor with a PhD, so it's 'doctor'!"

"Yes si-I mean….Yes, doctor."

* * *

 **Beacon Dorms….**

" _I would say you dodged a bullet back there,_ " Epsilon glanced at his partner as the two walked down the hall, " _But that would require you actually being panicky about another person finding out who you are._ "

"Maybe it's because so many people already do," Wash rubbed his tired eyes, "I thought I could keep this all a secret and not deal with….this…."

The A.I.F tilted his head, " _What do you mean 'this'?_ "

"...It's nothing."

" _Bullshit,_ " Epsilon tapped the side of his helmet, " _Remember, I'm in your head._ "

Wash quipped back at his partner, "Much to my agony."

" _Hey, I'm being serious,_ " the sapphire fragment jabbed his tiny finger, " _You can't let what Locus said bother you like this. Who cares what you call yourself. What matters is the mission and getting the job done right?_ "

Wash simply continued his walk, "Soldiers do the exact same thing,"

Epsilon crosses his arms with a huff, " _Ya know you're not helping yourself._ "

The huntsman-trainee snickered and resumed their walk in a slightly better mood. The trip to team RWBY's dorm wasn't long. However, it seems someone else had a meeting with the all-girl team. Or was about to.

"Okay, you can do this," the knight-huntsman pumped himself up, "Just remember the guitar lessons mom made you take. Play the song, impress her, and it's off to the dance together. Easy, right?"

"Jaune?" the ex-freelancer stared at the guitar wielding blonde.

"WOAHAHAHEY-!" he jumped at the interruption, but quickly noticed two of his teammates, "H-Hey Wash, Epsilon. You-uh….Y-You actually came just in time."

Wash suspiciously eyed the instrument, "In time for what?"

"I'm planning to ask Weiss out to the dance," the knight-huntsman strummed the strings with a "suave" smile, "With a song."

" _A classic,_ " Epsilon gave him a thumbs up, " _Guaranteed to get a 'yes'._ "

" _There's a 98% chance she'll say 'no',_ " the A.I.F. mentally transmitted to his partner, " _Two percent she'll send him through the window._ "

Wash formed a crooked smile, " _Don't tell him that._ "

" _I know,_ " the sapphire A.I. teased, " _That's why I'm telling you._ "

"I'm just getting a bit nervous right now," the knight huntsman adjusted one of the tuners, "My dad always said that girls like a guy with confidence."

"Well," Wash shrugged, "You'll never know unless you try,"

"Yeah! And as for confidence, you've got a lot of that."

"Thanks!" Jaune took a deep breath to prepare himself, "Okay. Time to play to Weiss' heartstrings."

" _If she even has any,_ " Epsilon mumbled.

The door to the all-girl team's dorm suddenly opened, directing all three stares at the person in front of them. Wash's eyes widened when he saw the physical state she was in. Her appearance had changed dramatically over the span of a few days. The tone of her skin had become paler and she looks like she hasn't eaten in days. But the biggest marker are the bags under her eyes. Both appearing like they were growing with every hour.

"Blake," the ex-freelancer approached his teammate.

The cat-faunus ignored his concern and walked away from the group. The three of them could only stare at her back until she rounded the corner.

Jaune eventually chose to be the one to break the silence, "What's wrong with her? She's been acting more-."

"'Blake-y?'" Epsilon finished his sentence.

"Yeah, that."

Wash didn't jump into the conversation, apparently studying where the former-terrorist last stood. He could see all the signs then and there. Avoiding eye contact, not even giving a decent greeting. Her walking most of all looked like she was forcing her feet to move. She is exactly how Wash was when he was….like that. Except for Blake it actually looked worse.

"I just remembered something," the ex-freelancer sprinted in her direction, "You go ahead and ask Weiss, don't wait on me."

"Oh, okay," Jaune looked at him confused before murmured to himself, "So much for getting some extra luck."

* * *

From her perspective, Blake saw herself as a realist. She is the kind of person who sees the world for what it really is. Though many of her friends, more often than not, tend to view her way of thinking as….pessimistic. That or a "downer", as Ruby and Yang have whined many times before. But they don't understand, none of them do. They haven't experienced the things she's seen or of the problems that occur on a daily basis. Things like going to a school dance are nothing but a hindrance. It was like she told her team earlier, people's lives were at stake. The only way to put a stop to it was to find the source, and Roman was the key to it. Which means the library is the only place that'll be of any use to her.

Blake stopped at the elevator, about to press the button when her four ears picked up the sounds of running. She turned to the noise and found Wash running to her, calling out her name and to wait for him. The cat-faunus, in return, glared and had to honestly fight the urge to hiss. She couldn't afford anymore people wasting her time. Her finger rapidly called for the elevator, thinking that it would move faster every time she pressed the button.

A strong grip suddenly grasped her wrist as Wash shouted one last time, "Blake!"

The cat-faunus jumped at the action, dropping the book she was holding.

Blake growled at her teammate as she wrestled her arm away, "Do you mind?"

Wash backed away from her, as if caught off-guard by her reaction, "S-Sorry."

He picked up book on the ground and appeared shocked when he read the title, "'Codes, Ciphers, and Hidden Meanings'? Is this a book on code-breaking?"

Epsilon then appeared on his shoulder, equally stunned, "Beacon has a book on that?"

One of Blake's eyebrows twitched before she swiped the item from him, "As you can see, yes. Which I'm going to study it in the library."

"Why would you need to learn that?" Wash asked.

"Isn't it obvious," she deadpanned, "To find out what the White Fang is-."

"Is planning?" the ex-freelancer cut her off, "We already went over this that night."

Blake's mind flashed back to the meeting they held in team RWBY's dorm. Or rather, Ruby's recreation of events prior to Sun and Neptune with the use of bad sound effects and _a lot_ of spit. When she finally finished they compared notes on their findings. Sadly all they discovered did not add up to much. The White Fang have recently been taking big steps in their fight against humanity. Roman happily provided them the weapons and Dust that came from Atlas. Not only that, but they were also receiving Gulch tech from Project Freelancer. All this from people who the White Fang would rather shoot on sight than give them at least two seconds of their time.

"All we know is that something is coming and we don't know what or when," the former terrorist traced her fingers against the text, "And I think I can find out more from deciphering what Roman said at the rally."

Epsilon shrugged at her way of thinking, "What kind of code is 'our new base is in the southeast'?"

"I don't know," she glared at the A.I. fragment, "That's why I'm studying how to break it. And even then, we don't know where their base is specifically."

"Blake," Wash looked at his teammate with genuine concern, "This isn't good for you. You're starting to see clues that aren't there. Maybe-."

She rubs her forehead with a groan, "I already went over this with Ruby and the others. It's a waste of time to go to some dance. You know, I'm actually surprised that you are going too," she glared at him with her baggy eyes, "YOU, of all people, should be concerned about this as much as I am. Especially even after what I told you!"

The ex-freelancer simply fell silent. She may not be able to see under those sunglasses and military-cap, but she could tell from his expression that he was most likely thinking the same thing.

"...You're right, it does," Wash spoke rather calmly, a smug grin about to form on Blake's face, "But remember, I've also been in the same position as you," the huntsman-trainee let out a pained laugh, "And you know how much a pain I was back then. Strangely enough, it took being thrown through a window that I finally understood. If you devote everything to prepare for what's ahead, especially by yourself, then you won't have the energy to face it."

Blake's eyes widened, backing away in utter disbelief. The one person she believed would be on her side….was telling her to stop. The only person that understood the position she was in.

"All I'm saying is that you need a break," the team counselor continued, "I think we know enough to earn a little rest."

"...Maybe," Blake looked away disappointed in him, "But who is to say the we're even the least bit ready. We can't all be wasting our time picking out dresses and music. Some of us need to remember the real issue that's out there," she turns her back to him, marching towards her destination, "And if you're not going to face the problem with me, then I may as well do it alone."

Wash tried to reach out for his teammate, "That's not what I-,"

"No!" she snarled, "Just….don't bother alright."

Blake angrily pressed the button for the courtyard and the two just stared at each other. Wash's expression still showed one of concern, and even though Blake couldn't see hers, she knew that she was feeling beyond annoyed. That feeling changed into a brief moment of relief when the doors finally closed. Maybe now she can get some peace and quiet….unless anyone else wants to get in her way.

* * *

" _Okay….that went well._ "

The ex-freelancer sighed at his failure of being a team counselor. As he watched the former White Fang member ride the elevator downward, he understood and agreed that she was right. Something terrible is going to happen, and while the conspirators were possibly working out the final details, everyone else is oblivious to the oncoming threat. Maybe he should-.

" _Hey Wash,_ " Epsilon interrupted his thoughts, " _I know this is supposed to be some moody-brooding moment, but can you possibly save it until later?_ "

"Yeah," the huntsman-trainee adjusted his military-cap, "Yeah let's go."

He already made his decision and wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. The whole group knows as much as they can right now. It's the best they can do for now and they all deserve some peace and quiet. Plus, if he didn't go to the dance, then Yang would probably force him to wear a tux and drag him to it. And he wouldn't want to make her more upset than she already is.

The two of them quickly made it back to team RWBY's dorm. Apparently just when Jaune had finished asking Weiss to the dance. Who had also just heard the heiress' answer, as to the slamming of the door.

"Oh, okay," the guitar playing huntsman slumped forward.

The ex-freelancer approached the defeated musician, knowing fully what the result was, "Well?"

"She said, 'no'," Jaune sighed.

"Told ya," Epsilon snickered.

"I thought that would get her this time," the young ladies-man looked up towards his older team member, "I….I don't suppose you have-."

"Nope," Wash abruptly cut him off, "I can teach you how to deal with stress, throw a grenade properly, or even drive a tank. NOT how to get a girl whose repeatedly shown you she's not interested."

Once again, Jaune lowered his head with a defeated sigh, "Figures."

Despite his harsh reaction, Wash couldn't help but feel pity for him. The ex-freelancer wasn't an expert in these sort of things, but even he knew a lost cause when he saw one.

"Jaune," the older student placed a hand on his shoulder, "Maybe you should take this as a sign. Move on and….focus on other things."

" _Yeah,_ " Epsilon nodded in agreement, " _And ya know, like they always say, 'the bigger the ocean, the more fish there are.'_ "

"That's not how it goes," Wash corrected.

" _Would you rather have the generic sounding one?_ "

"But who?" Jaune pondered, "Nora already has Ren, Blake doesn't seem to be looking for a relationship, and Ruby is a bit….young ya know. Do-Do you think Ya-?"

Wash raised a hand to stop him, "As someone who has seen and received her temper first hand. I can tell you that she can be a bit of a….handful."

"Yeah," Jaune laughed slightly, "You're right about that."

Wash smiled back, "Why not-?"

 _BEEP BEEP!_

The knight-huntsman pulled out his scroll to disable the alarm, "Sorry, I got my tutoring session with Pyrrha tonight. I'll see you later."

Jaune ran down the hall to meet his partner, while both Wash and Epsilon watched him with knowing looks.

"You calculated Weiss' response earlier," the ex-freelancer places his hands on his hips, "When do you think those two will finally stop dancing around each other."

The A.I.F. crossed his arms, " _So **now** you wanna hear me state the odds._ "

"I'm just curious," Wash argued.

" _Well I'm not telling,_ " Epsilon sarcastically huffed, " _Besides, it's more fun to see those two stumble around. It just pulls at your heartstrings but also makes you laugh._ "

"You're starting to sound like Omega," the huntsman-trainee approached team RWBY's dorm room.

" _That's not funny,_ " his partner deadpanned, " _Although, I'm surprised that you gave Jaune the whole 'meet other people'-spiel._ "

"He's not the first person I know that's always thinking about girls," Wash massages the bridge of his nose, "I just hope Jaune will be different and grow-out of it. One day he'll have to take things more seriously."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," the A.I.F. defended their inexperienced member, "That is if he survives next week without holding someone's hand."

"Only time will tell," Wash states as he taps against the room's entrance.

 _Knock Knock_

"GO AWAY JAUNE! YOU ALREADY HEARD MY ANSWER!"

The huntsman-trainee glared at the entrance, "It's Wash. You're the ones that called me here. Remember?"

The Schnee heiress opened the door, frantically looking from side-to-side, "Is he still here?"

Epsilon snorted, " _Would it make you feel better that he just left?_ "

"Oh thank Dust! He's been hounding me since the day we first met," Weiss bitterly snarled, her hands strangling the air, "He's like one of those gophers that can't stay underground! No matter how many times you stomp on them!"

"O~kay then," Wash let himself in, not wanting to get dragged into that conversation.

Even if it was his second time there, the ex-freelancer never found the chance to look over the team's living quarters for anything "out of place". Their set up was completely different compared to his room. Then again, he is a single student sleeping in a dorm meant for a whole team. Yet it seems the all-girl group found a way to accommodate all of their belongings. By the use of poorly-constructed bunk beds no less. He could practically tell which member slept in which. Ruby's was obviously the one being suspended in the air by ropes along with a sheet tied to them like some sort of cover. Weiss' was the one below the team leader's, both the blanket and sheets nicely tucked in with little to no wrinkles. Blake's had stacks of books on each post so that it could hold up Yang's bed. Hers was surprisingly neat with only a dog-head shaped pillow on it.

"Hey Wash," Ruby chirped from Weiss' bed.

The ex-freelancer waved to the young huntress and turned to her older sister. Unlike her sibling's cheerful greeting, Yang's eyes seem to bore through his sunglasses. That was all it took to make the room fall silent. The whole atmosphere hauntingly reminded Wash of the last falling-out they had. Ruby and Weiss were awkwardly looking back-and-forth, waiting to see who would act first.

It would have gone on longer if Yang hadn't raised a brow to their guest.

Wash, in return, nervously cleared his throat, "...Um….Hello….Yang."

"..."

"..."

"Look~," he cautiously begun his apology, "I just wanted to say-."

"If you _really_ don't want to piss me of," the bothered blonde narrowed her gaze in order to shut him up, "I suggest you don't bring up what happened and just say 'yes' to what we're about to say."

"Which is?"

"Why don't you allow me to explain," Weiss stepped between both parties, acting as the voice of reason, "You might not have heard, but we have been put in charge of the upcoming dance."

Wash glanced between the two questioningly, "I thought that task was assigned to team CFVY?"

Ruby sadly explained, "They're still on their mission and probably won't be back until after the dance."

"So you were put in charge~?"

"Just today," Weiss declared.

"Wait what!?" Wash's eyes widened at the news, "Isn't the dance this Sunday!?"

The heiress pointed a confirming finger, "Exactly! Which is why we have no time to waste and we need your help," she quickly took out her scroll, looking over a long list as she paced around the room, "Now; we can save some money by using the tables, chairs, and utensils in storage. Table cloth and streamers have already been ordered and just need to picked-up and delivered here. But we are currently in need of flowers and the other decorations!"

"Don't forget the speakers and the fog machine," Yang added.

"Yes," Weiss loathingly hissed at the two additions, "Those too."

"So what do you need me for?" Wash asked, "Do you need me to fill out the order forms?"

"Nope," Weiss shook her head, "Already taken care of."

"Seriously!?"

"Of course," the heiress placed her hands on her hips, nose pointed in the air, "I find it best to be prepared for any situation."

"Wow," Wash mumbled to Yang, "You weren't kidding when you said Weiss is a perfectionist."

She, however, looked away with a huff, destroying the attempt of mending bridges.

" _Nice try pal,_ " Epsilon empathized with his partner, " _I'd give you a pat on the back but….you know._ "

"What you need to do Wash," Weiss handed him a small scroll, "Is to head into town and confirm the delivery for the following items. Professor Ozpin said to just put it all under the school."

The huntsman-trainee looked over the locations he had to visit. A shop that sold some doilies and some other fancy cloths, another that rented-out sound equipment, and a flower shop. The task is simple enough, walk around town and talk to some employees. Possibly fill out some paperwork.

"Seems simple enough," Wash looked through the list, but furrowed his brows at one of the items, "Wait, it says here that a disk-jockey hasn't been hired yet. But according to this, the budget can't cover hiring someone, much less for a night."

"That's actually what we need you for," Weiss replied.

"Me!?" the huntsman-trainee pointed at himself, "But I'm not a DJ!"

"That's why we're not asking you," Yang rolled her eyes, "We're asking _you_."

All eyes turned to the small hologram in the room. The sapphire A.I.F. took in each of their looks, realizing what they meant.

" _So~,_ " Epsilon rubbed his pointer finger and thumb together, " _How much are you offering? Cause I'm letting you know upfront, I charge by the hour._ "

Wash gaped at the request, "You're asking an Artificial Intelligence program from a failed _military experiment_ , meant for _combat_ ….to play _music_ at a _dance_!?"

"Well~," Ruby nervously fidgeted with her fingers, "When you put it like that it sounds dumb."

"THAT'S BECAUSE IT IS DUMB!" the ex-freelancer shrieked.

"Well what'd you expect!?" Weiss argued, "Our budget can't cover hiring someone since it costs extra to have everything delivered on time. We might as well save some money and have someone we know who can get it done quickly and professionally."

"Don't you think everyone their might wonder how the music is playing despite nobody being there?"

"Oh don't worry about it," Yang waved off the outburst as if it were nothing, "We promise to give him back in _one piece_ when _you_ get back."

Wash's mouth tightened, fully understanding the meaning behind her words. It was what she said to him about her bike, a task she entrusted to him, before it ended up in it's….current state.

"...Epsilon," he turned to his partner, "What do you think?"

Everyone's eyes seem to widen when they heard his reply.

The A.I.F. too was caught off guard by the action, " _You're asking me?_ "

"Well you are the subject of the matter," Wash blatantly stated, "I know it's not in your programming, but if you want to do it, then just say it."

Epsilon places a hand under his chin, dramatically pondering over the offer " _Hmmm...I'm in. Sounds a lot more fun than watching the whole thing through your eyes. I can probably form a playlist by the end of the night. Just have to look at the everyone's tastes are and pick which songs are downloaded the most, I'll probably have to include the teachers too…._ "

The small hologram continued to ramble, showing that he was fully into the task. Yang formed a victorious grin and offered Weiss a fist bump. The heiress was perplexed by the gesture, responding with a few awkward light taps.

Wash shook his head with a laugh, "Still, I should have expected that Ozpin gave you the green light for this."

Everyone's pondering and jovial celebration suddenly froze, the three girls look at each other nervously.

The ex-freelancer's expression instantly fell flat, "Please tell me..."

"Well~," Ruby anxiously tapped her pointer fingers together, "We were hoping you could..."

"Don't", Wash raised his hand, massaging the bridge of his nose, "I'll make the call."


	9. Mementos

**A/N: [CONNECTION ESTABLISHED]**

 **GaryOkampo logging on...**

 **I've probably said this enough, but you've all waited long enough for this. Please understand that this is the sort of quality I want to put into my chapters so they will take quite some time to write.**

* * *

 _Journal Entry 108_

 _Subject: Pyrrha Nikos_

 _I feel that it's about time I talk about someone who bears a striking resemblance to…._ _ **someone else**_ _I was once close too. However, despite their physical similarities, the two of them are actually quite different._

 _Carolina was Project Freelancer's best agent, that is before Texas appeared, and led the unit's top ranking team. At first glance she may seemed a bit harsh, but deep down–_ _ **very**_ _deep down–she cared for those in her squad. One which I was proud to be a part of._

 _Pyrrha is the four-time-consecutive champion of the Mistral Regional Tournament, a huntress-trainee with a promising future, and was a temporary mascot for a cereal product(I honestly did_ _ **not**_ _expect that one). Not only that but her academic scores are astounding and, no surprise, is an exceptional fighter in the arena; as to her recent victory against all of team CRDL._

 _However I sometimes notice that Pyrrha seems…._ _ **bothered**_ _by all the attention and praise. She is humble, but she appears to feel isolated because of her said fame. It would explain her moments of social awkwardness. I also believe that she doesn't just want to be a huntress, but also desires a friend._

* * *

 **Vale: Commercial District….**

With the dance drawing near, along with preparations currently half-done, there was literally no time to lose. Ordering all the items and having them sent beforehand would take a large amount of time and resources. A task considered to be impossible to complete. That is unless you are a rich-perfectionist who has access to said resources, particularly money, to have everything by Saturday night at the latest. Plus a former-military-operative who has no problems waking up at the crack of dawn.

An obvious benefit of that is being the first one in line. Most of Wash's day had been signing confirmation orders for the flowers, decorations, Weiss' doilies, and to direct the staff when they were to be delivered. So far he had been making good time. With the sun still in the middle of the sky, Wash figured that he'll at least have a few hours to himself once he's done with Yang's items.

Their last stop was a rather large store with a sign reading "Sonic & Boom", a name that Epsilon found insultingly generic. Wash rang the bell at the front desk for the second time, drumming his fingers against the hardwood counter as he waited for someone to answer.

"Hello?" he called out to the shelves of sound equipment, "Is anyone here?"

Epsilon mentally shrugged at the silence, " _...Maybe they're closed._ "

"It's only two in the afternoon."

One of staff finally appears from one of the rows. Someone that the ex-freelancer instantly recognized.

"You!?" Wash raised a brow at the elderly man, "You work here too!?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded.

"But didn't I see you at the flower shop this morning?"

"Uh-huh."

"And the furniture store where I bought the doilies?"

"Uh-huh."

" _And_ that–what did Ren call them–dumpling stand I just passed down the block?"

The shopkeeper gave a confirming nod, "Uh-huh."

Was pinched his chin, looking through his memories, "Wait….you were also at that army surplus store where I bought my gear!"

He replied with a knowing smile and a strange gesture that looked like a wink.

"..."

"..."

"Just how many jobs do you have?" Wash gaped at the ubiquitous worker.

" _Ahem_!" The shopkeeper cleared his throat, his crossed arms used as sign of wanting to get to business.

"Oh! Right," the huntsman-trainee took out his scroll to look over the list, "I need four DJ turntables with an interface package, a soundboard, four medium-size speakers, and four–no–two slim-sized ones?"

A resounding _thud_ echoed throughout out the store. Not even ten seconds had passed and the items requested were stacked against the counter. Wash glanced at the elderly employee, who was happily using his red apron to wipe his hands.

Epsilon was clearly impressed, " _Now that's customer service. All that's left is Yang's request._ "

"Yeah," the ex-freelancer mumbled, "But, where can we find a fog machine?"

The same sound occurred again, and there stood the contraption in question.

Wash looked over the machine, inspecting if it met the requirements Yang wanted, "...Can this cover a large space, like a dining hall?"

Once again the shopkeeper nodded. The awestruck huntsman-trainee adjusted his mouth, impressed at how fast the man worked. In fact it was actually the same at every other store he worked at.

"Okay then," Wash took the pen on the counter, "Can you deliver all these to Beacon by tonight?"

"Uh-huh," the elderly employee stacked all the items in his arms and took them to the back.

" _Well that went faster than I thought?_ "

Wash rolled out his shoulders before leaning on the counter, " _With everything on it's way to Beacon, we'll have enough time to set it up tomorrow._ "

" _Speaking of time. We now have plenty to finish your list._ "

" _Mine?_ " The ex-freelancer furrowed his brow at the invisible figure on his shoulder.

" _Yeah yours!_ " Epsilon mentally scoffed, " _Well, technically it's not a list since you only have one thing on it. Remember?_ "

* * *

 **Yesterday Evening: Ozpin's Office….**

Thanks to recent events, Wash began to see his military habits as both difficult to break _and_ dead giveaways. Case in point; when standing in front of someone you consider a superior officer; stop standing like you are in front of a superior officer. Especially Beacon's headmaster and his assistant. The ex-freelancer should have figured that Ruby and the others had yet to discuss their "Epsilon: The A.I.D.J."-plan with Ozpin. They probably figured that Wash could use their deal to smooth things out. All he had to do was call the veteran-huntsman and ask if they could talk. Normally it would be for professional reasons, but this situation was more….social.

Yet, the so-called "social atmosphere" was still very tense. He sent a digital copy of the proposed plan for the dance to Ozpin, who then gave one to Professor Goodwitch. Obviously the experienced huntress didn't approve of the idea as it could be seen by her increasing scowl as she reached the bottom of the page. Ozpin's expression, however, was impassive like always as he drank from his usual mug of coffee. While the two were entranced by the digital text, Wash could only stand there patiently, clasping his hands behind his back as he waited for a response.

"Of all the-," Professor Goodwitch glared at the huntsman-trainee in front of her, "Do those girls honestly believe that they'll get approval for this!?"

Wash tightened his jaw, knowing that this would happened. That is unless….

"I'll allow it," Ozpin declared.

"Of course you do," the veteran huntress deadpanned, "How do you suppose we explain the music playing automatically, hmm? That we somehow hired some….ghost musician!?"

" _That actually sounds kinda cool_ ," Epsilon chirped from Wash's shoulder, " _I should use that as my gimmick when I-._ "

Goodwitch's glare instantly stopped him mid-sentence.

" _...I'll just stop talking._ "

"With your permission," Wash stepped forward, "I'd like to use one of the hologram projectors in the amphitheatre. We can use it to create an image of a performer, and even if people ask questions, we can just say that the songs were pre-programmed or controlled remotely."

"And how do you suppose we _upload_ your A.I. fragment into the sound equipment?" Goodwitch adjusted her glasses' hinges, "The last time he was removed you were placed into a coma, albeit briefly."

Washington played with his thumbs behind his back when he suddenly felt a chill travel up his spine, "...Despite what– _ahem_ –what happened, I can remove Epsilon as long as the act is consensual. However, he and I have been working on an….'alternative'."

"Oh?" Ozpin placed his chin on his intertwining fingers with intrigue, "And what might that be?"

"We're…." the two partners glanced at each other, Epsilon tilting his hand up-and-down, "Still working out the kinks."

"I see. As I declared earlier, you may use Epsilon as the 'D.J.' this coming Sunday," the Beacon Headmaster suddenly raised a finger, "But on one condition."

"And that is?"

Ozpin re-interlocked his fingers with smile, "While you are there, try to have fun."

Wash replied with a crooked version of the expression, "I'll….do my best."

Glynda massaged the bridge of her nose, mumbling to herself, "James is not going to like this."

"Well then it's a good thing you'll be there," the veteran huntsman smirked.

The experienced huntress' frown only made Ozpin chuckle as he tapped a few keys on his computer. Wash suddenly felt his scroll vibrate and glanced at the screen, a notification that a sum of money had been added to his bank account. One of Ozpin's "welcome gifts" when he enrolled into Beacon.

The ex-freelancer's eyes widened when he saw the amount, turning toward the school's headmaster, "What's this for?"

"I believe you lack the necessary attire to attend such a gathering," Ozpin playfully winked, "You don't plan to go in your combat outfit, do you?"

* * *

 **Present day….**

Epsilon brought up a list of the local tailor shops on Wash's HUD, " _So, which one should we go to?_ _This one's got a three-outta-five stars for it's variety. Or maybe this one, four-outta-five for service, they even let you customize your own suit._ "

" _How about something cheap,_ " the ex-freelancer handed the shopkeeper the last bit of paperwork.

" _You mean something boring,_ " his partner groaned, " _Come on, Ozpin gave you the money plus the silver platter. You should change things up a little, wear something nice for once._ "

" _Like what?_ "

" _How about something that doesn't make you look angsty, depressing, and/or threatening. Maybe take a break from all that gray and use some–I don't know–blue or some other brighter color. Mix things up a little._ "

" _I'll think about it._ "

Wash looked over the different stores on his sunglasses' visor. He didn't have the first clue at how to pick out formal wear. Project Freelancer usually provided those sort of things, and even then he only wore it during important events or when one of them was getting a medal. What if he makes the wrong choice and becomes the laughing stock of the dance? He could probably call one of his friends for advice. Yang is most likely still too mad to answer his call. Weiss, or maybe even Jaune, may have a better idea. Hell, if he could, he'd probably ask that cadet he knew back in boot camp. He always knew what to wear when off base, despite also having a terrible sense in armor-color, "lightish-red" he called it. Maybe he'll call-.

" _Pyrrha?_ "

Wash turned to the double-doored entrance when he heard her name. Like his partner said, the Mistral champion was in front of the shop, although dressed differently. No longer was she wearing her bronze-colored armor; but a pair of red sneakers, jean shorts, and a copper coat over a white shirt. She even wore a matching copper ball-cap that almost covered her green eyes. Even her usual pony tail was now a long braid. The semi-famous celebrity almost looked like an average, every-day girl; if she wasn't frantically looking over her shoulder trying not to stand out. The ex-freelancer studied her oddly-stiff walk until she passed by him, without even realizing she was being watched.

" _What's she doing here?_ " Epsilon asked the million-dollar(lien)-question, " _And why is she walking so weird?_ "

"Let's ask her," Wash answered as he pushed past the entrance.

He looked down the street and saw that she had not gotten far, almost nearing the corner. The huntsman-trainee quickly jogged to her in order to catch up.

"Hey!" Wash grabbed her shoulder, "Pyr-!"

He suddenly felt his wrist being gripped tightly and his body flying through the air. The ex-freelancer felt his back collide with something soft, yet also heard some metal clatter against concrete. Then there was that horrid smell of what seemed like rotten food.

"Oww…," he massaged his head when he felt it land on the ground.

The world appeared like it was upside down, his eyes already clearing up his double vision. Of course he would end up like this…if this were a comedy routine.

Pyrrha jogged from the entrance of the alley as she quickly discovered the identity of her apparent "attacker", "Oh my goodness, Wash!?"

However the ex-freelancer already picked himself up, Epsilon also appearing to point out the discarded banana peel on his shoulder before dusting it off, "Nnngh….nice throw."

"I'm sorry," she gave her trademark apology.

Wash waved it off, "It's okay, I….probably shouldn't have startled you like that."

"What are you doing here?"

"Running errands for team RWBY," the huntsman trainee explained, "Since they were put in charge of the dance, Weiss and Yang have been working around-the-clock to prepare."

Pyrrha nodded in understanding, "I heard about that. Whatever they have planned, I'm sure that they're going to make it a splendid event."

"Yeah," Wash reminisced the things he had to pick up, "It will be alright. So, what about you? I've rarely seen you come to town before."

"Oh," the huntress prodigy absentmindedly glanced around, "Just….like you….running an errand."

"By yourself, alone?"

" _While in disguise?_ " Epsilon added.

Pyrrha awkwardly rubbed her palms against each other, a small blush forming on her cheeks, "I–um–I'm actually out to buy a new dress….for the dance."

Wash raised a brow at her answer, "But aren't you some well-known celebrity? I figured you'd at least have a couple fancy clothes of your own."

The so-called "celebrity" looked away, her arm grasping the other, "I'm really not that famous."

Wash saw how her expression changed from bashful to almost…troubled. He had seen how the other students treat her on campus. Always running up to her with looks of admiration, carrying a notepad or camera asking for an autograph or a selfie with her. He even heard a transfer student forfeited a sparring match with her because apparently he knew he'd lose. Of course, being who she is, she accepted all the praise and comments with a smile; whether she wanted to or not.

He was about to apologize when Pyrrha quickly raised her hands, not wanting to darken the mood, "A-And it's mostly because the nice clothes I had belonged to my sponsors, so I didn't necessarily 'own' them," she glanced at her watch in order to drop the conversation, "I should really get going, don't want them to close on me."

She gave an awkward laugh as she left the alley, but stopped when she heard Epsilon call out.

" _WAIT!_ " the sapphire fragment shouted, " _This store you're going too, do they sell tuxedos too?_ "

"Um…," Pyrrha tilted her head at the sort of questioning, "Yes, they do?"

Epsilon massaged the lower part of his helmet, " _And would you say they provide good service?_ "

"I've gone to them before, and they usually get positive reviews."

"Where are you going with this?" Wash's eyes narrowed at the small hologram.

" _Heh,_ " Epsilon confidently turned to his partner, his visor appearing like it was glimmering, " _I think we know where we can get you a new suit._ "

* * *

There are many prices to fame, most notably being the right to privacy. You can never indulge into personal moments without the risk of some desperate reporter or two-bit paparazzi from twisting it into something humiliating. Then there's the adoring fans who constantly harass you for a signature in their notebook or their forehead. Finally there is the agent who thinks they know what's best for you such as making you eat questionable cereal products. If given the chance, Pyrrha would enthusiastically explain how her own privacy fell victim to the stereotype.

Hence whenever she goes out alone, she puts on a disguise to hide from the cameras. It usually worked and it wasn't like she was the only redhead in Vale. Simply tie her hair in a different style, put on plain clothes, and Pyrrha Nikos looked like any other normal girl. She would have been able to buy her dress without any risk of being recognized….until someone did. Although she couldn't be more relieved that it was someone she knew rather than another admirer.

She glanced at the said friend beside her and noticed that Wash was looking over his surroundings. Pyrrha could remember the times when the huntsman trainee would scout every corner of a room before entering. He was always the last to come in and the last to come out. However now he appeared more curious than(as Yang called it) "edgy."

"Wash?" Pyrrha called out.

"Huh!?" the huntsman trainee snapped back to her, "S-Sorry. I just never seen so many civilians at an exchange before."

The celebrity huntress raised a questionable brow, "You mean an outlet mall?"

"Right–Right. A mall….,"

"Do you not have those in Gulch?"

"We do," Wash shrugged, "They're usually in the major cities and sometimes underground. But personally, I've spent more time at the military exchanges whenever I was on base."

"That's right~," Pyrrha quickly realized, "I can't help but forget that you come from an isolated kingdom. Since I rarely see you surprised that is," she then quickly caught onto her mistake, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-."

"It's okay," Wash disregarded the apparent offense, "And technically we're a country, not a kingdom," he resumed looking at their surroundings, "So where is this store?"

"It's that one over there," the celebrity huntress pointed to the one ahead.

The shop the pair was looking for was larger than Wash had expected. It's name was displayed in a stylized text that came in the form of a single cursive line that spelled out the words "Original Creations". Big enough to take up two average-size suites, which surprisingly dedicated a side to two distinctly different styles. On the left were both male and female mannequins posed to display dresses and tuxedos, each with a unique set of colors. However the right side of the building showed clothes of an entirely different field. They were similar to what the students at Beacon wore and even professional huntsmen.

When they stepped inside, they were greeted with rows of clothing that were neatly organized. Wash's expressions began to lean more towards skepticism as he examined one of the life-size dummies that was wearing a bright blue tuxedo with a yellow tie. Turning to the other side he saw the practical, yet flamboyant, outfits for combat.

Epsilon once again appeared on his partner's shoulders, doing the same, " _So I'm guessing this is where huntsmen do there shopping._ "

"Why not invest more in armor?" Wash examined one of the many pairs of fingerless gloves, "Why bother with all of….'this'?"

"Perhaps they wish to look heroic?" Pyrrha guessed.

The huntsman trainee then motioned to another rack, "Then what's with all the trench coats?"

"Oh. My. Goodness~!" A voice suddenly shrieked.

Epsilon quickly disappeared as the pair turned to the cashier at the far end of the room. The store's owner excitedly approached them when he saw someone he recognized. Pyrrha couldn't help but smile when she saw the man drew closer. He still wore tan sandals and baggy blue pants tied with a red sash. His surprisingly broad shoulders and muscular arms were covered by a turquoise turtleneck and purple vest. Then came the welcoming hug which was happily received by the celebrity huntress.

"Hi Jinn!" Pyrrha laughed.

"Nicky, darling!" the man kissed both her cheeks, his goatee tickling her skin, "It's been ages since I last saw you in Mistral. How are you!? Have you made any friends at Beacon!? I expect nothing but details."

"Perhaps another time," the celebrity huntress politely refused, turning to the huntsman trainee to begin introductions, "Wash, I'd like you to meet Jinn, he was the one who designed my outfit for the Mistral Regional Tournament. Jinn, this is Washington."

"Hmm, Washington~!" the fashion store owner slicked back his black hair until it reached his ponytail, then framing the huntsman trainee's figure with his hands "Tall, strapping, _very_ broody, gives off a adventurer-vibe or maybe a treasure-hunter. Ya know I have a shemagh that would look just great on you."

"Um….thanks, but no," Wash hesitantly refused the offer, "Pyrrha said that you make suits?"

The eccentric fashionista flipped his pony tail, "But of course! Tuxedos, dresses, briefs that can stop or hold a knife, whatever my customers want I provide."

Wash's skeptical look became more prominent when he continued to hear Jinn ramble.

"Don't you worry now, I'll make you a matching set so that Nicky and you will be the bells of the ball."

A sudden warmth rose to Pyrrha's cheeks, "A-Actually no, we're not going together."

"Oh? Ohhhh~! I see," Jinn pursed his lips as he gave a sympathetic hug with a few pats to her back, "Awww honey it's okay, men are either too shy to ask or too dense to notice. Just ask your friend there."

Wash immediately pointed to himself, "Wha–Me!?"

"Anyway," Pyrrha politely pushed away from her colleague, "Do you think you can put together a suit for him?"

"Hopefully by tonight?" Wash added.

The store owner smirked before pulling out a measuring tape and quickly got to work, "Honestly darling, have you not been paying attention?"

Jinn immediately got to work; circling the huntsman trainee as he measured his shoulders, arms, waist, and-.

"HEY!" Wash jumped at the sudden squeeze.

"My apologies~," the ecstatic designer whispered into his ear, "Needed that measurement also."

Pyrrha had to use a hand to cover her laugh as she watched the man hard at work. It was always entertaining to watch Jinn whenever he was "in the zone", as he emphasized in the past. He always had that glow in his eyes as he glided around a client taking their measurements. Almost like some sort of dance.

Jinn postured when he was finally done, "This may take a moment," he then pointed at a box on the counter, "Nicky, your dress is in there. Go try it on in the fitting room and let me know what you think."

Pyrrha wordlessly followed the instructions given and made her way to one of the two changing rooms. The celebrity huntress slid the curtain, shielding herself from public eyes and began removing her plain clothes. She opened the box and put on what was inside. The long dress was sleeveless and the collar snugly wrapped around her neck exposing her back. She put on the dark red heels that came along with it, even put her hair back into its signature high-ponytail for the full effect. The three mirrors surrounding her showed that the overall outfit clung to her figure nicely. Unique enough to make her feel beautiful, but not extravagant to make her stand out. Pyrrha smiled proudly at her reflection, she knew Jinn was the kind of man who wouldn't disappoint.

The celebrity huntress stepped out, wanting to congratulate him for another job well done. However she abruptly stopped when she found the ecstatic designer wasn't there. Earlier she told him that he was rarely ever surprised. Yet from the way his mouth seemed to drop, that's most likely what Wash was feeling when he saw her.

"Wow," he stood there stupefied at the change in her appearance.

Pyrrha couldn't stop the blush on her cheeks from the attention, "Well….What do you think?"

"Ah, right! _Ahem_ ," Washington scratched the back of his neck, "You–uh–look great. The dress I mean; it looks great."

"Of course it does!" Jinn announced when he returned, a set of clothes in his arms, "My girl has yet to doubt my talents."

"With good reason," Pyrrha added.

"Now, as for you handsome," the fashion designer grabbed Wash's arm, "Let's get you into something equally fabulous!"

"No-wait-I can-WOAH!" the huntsman tried to protest, but was pulled so hard to one of the changing rooms that his military cap flew off his head.

Pyrrha watched the article fall to the floor and was equally caught off guard by how quick the scene played out. That was the one quality she disliked whenever Jinn was "in the zone". She reminisced the time he spun her around ignoring her protests while taking the measurements needed for the very dress she was wearing. Even so, looking back at it now, the celebrity huntress snickered at the memory as she picked up Wash's forgotten hat.

She examined how the military cap even matched his color palette of steel gray and yellow. Always wearing it even when said hat clashed with his school uniform. Wherever he went, no matter what time of day, it remained atop his head. In fact; she couldn't remember if she, or anyone else, saw what lie underneath. Perhaps the story behind that is the same as his sunglasses. That's when she noticed something behind the front of the military cap. At first she thought it was a piece of paper, but quickly realized it was something else.

It was when Pyrrha studied the item in question that she discovered it was a photo of Project Freelancer's top agents: the A-squad. From the angle and the position of the sun in the background, she deduced that it was taken inside a hangar bay sometime in the afternoon. Most chose not to wear their helmets when the picture was taken while a few decided to keep their identities a secret. She recognized York from his damaged eye, kneeling at the forefront on one knee with a smile on his face. He appeared to be the most relaxed out of all of them. South was on the left, mirroring the same pose, but her head was lowered as if she didn't want to be there. She was glancing at her brother North who was standing behind her with a caring hand on her shoulder as well as a strained smile. Next to the purple freelancers was Maine, or better known now as the Meta, and one of the two who was wearing a helmet with his arms crossed threateningly. Even before he became a monster he still carried an intimidating air around himself. On the right side of the picture next to York was a pair of soldiers Pyrrha sort of recognized. The one in the white armor carried a sniper rifle, who oddly reminded her of Professor Port if he were younger. Even the rather large moustache that the agent was twirling was more curlier than the flamboyant professor's. At his side was another soldier in blue armor whose face was concealed by the shadows of the hangar. He seemed to be the only one in the group whose posture was more "professional" from the way he held his shotgun. The far right was occupied by Agent Texas, the second freelancer who wore their helmet at the time, casually cracking her knuckles like she was preparing for a fight. Then there were the three other members in the back. Connie stood further behind the rest of the team. Pyrrha found it surprisingly strange from the way she hid behind her hair that the future traitor was camera shy. Carolina was in the center of it all, hands on her hips, looking over her squad with her green eyes. The celebrity huntress noticed that the squad leader's gaze was directed to the youngest member in the group.

Finally her own eyes fell onto Washington himself. She couldn't believe that the freelancer in the picture then and the huntsman-trainee now were the same person. It wasn't surprising that the military cap on his head was there, the shadow of the bill covering his eyes. But it was the smile on his face that drew her attention. Pyrrha didn't see Wash do it often, even then those times appeared like he was restraining himself. Here he was holding nothing back. That toothy grin was one of pride and genuine joy. To think that so much had happened to him, that turned him into….who he is now.

"Oh Nicky!"

Pyrrha jumped at her nickname, hastily putting the memorabilia back where it was. She looked back to the changing rooms and saw Jinn standing next to them. From the way the ecstatic designer pumped his fists, he seemed quite pleased with himself.

"May I introduce….," he grabbed the curtain and announced dramatically, "MISTERRRRRR~! WASHINGTONNNNNNNN~!"

This time it was Pyrrha's turn to be surprised by what she saw. Jinn had apparently taken the same approach he did for her dress on Wash's suit. A pair of black dress shoes that were freshly shined. Dark gray pants that were held up by a belt that was covered by a blazer with a matching hue. Under it was a black dress shirt with a yellow tie wrapped around the neck. Wash's sunglasses were still perched on his nose, shielding his eyes. However atop his cranium was another dark gray item that came in the form of a fedora with a yellow bond.

"It-It's actually been awhile since I last wore a suit," Wash nervously adjusted his collar, "Is it that bad?"

"Actually you look rather dashing," Pyrrha giggled at his bashfulness, "Oh, right. You dropped this."

She handed him his military cap, the team photo placed back where she found it.

The ex-freelancer examined the item with a melancholic expression, "I figured it was out here….thanks."

His emotions were clearly noticed by Pyrrha, reaching out to comfort her friend, "Is something the matter?"

"It's nothing," Wash quickly made his way to the cash register, "I should go ahead and pay for this."

Her hand was still outstretched, slowly returning to her side as she watched him leave. The two of them eventually changed out of their formal clothes and left the store. But not before Pyrrha embraced Jinn for keeping his word on not telling anyone about her order.

"It was no problem at all dear," the eccentric designer waved, "That's what friends do for each other."

The two said their goodbyes, leaving Wash and Pyrrha's tasks now completed….and plenty of free time. Normally this would be the part where two compatriots would walk around town to "hang out". However the atmosphere between said friends had darkened, leaving an odd silence.

"So," the celebrity huntress awkwardly began the conversation, "What shall we do now?"

"Actually," Wash adjusted his military cap before glancing at the sun, "I think I should get back to Beacon, I've been outside for too long and should probably start setting up the ballroom."

"Wait!" She shouted to him, realizing she made the first move, "H-How about lunch? I know a stand that sells some delicious crepes."

Wash stared at her strangely, his brow raised at the suggestion, "...What's a crepe?"

* * *

 **Beacon Dorms….**

Until now, Cinder had been called many things: a tactician, a killer, a perfectionist by her allies, and a mystery by her enemies. Yet none would have suspected, or even find the gall, to call her a seamstress. It seemed fitting that a woman of her skills be also a master of one that required patience and precision. As evidence to the black evening gown that she was wearing right now. The dust witch looked over herself in the mirror, trying to spot any flaws….not that she would. Her outfit embraced her hourglass figure very closely and the slit at her thigh exposed her pale legs and black heels. The dust pattern she had sewn onto her left side went well with the smaller bits spread throughout the dress, making it shimmer like the shattered moon in the night sky. In addition was a pair of elbow length gloves. Overall, Cinder couldn't help but smile at a job well done.

"You look great~. Dazzling even," a familiar voice announced themselves into the room, "And you made that all by yourself?"

Cinder ignored the question as she turned to the window and found her two o'clock, "You're late….again."

Agent Florida casually shrugged, "Climbing up a building undetected in broad daylight is a lot harder than you think."

The dust witch noticed he came empty handed this time, "No apology flower."

"Seems a bit redundant to give you another daisy," Florida tilted his helmet covered head as if he were smiling, "But it's a good thing I have this."

He produced a data drive from one of the compartments in his armor. Cinder narrowed her eyes at the device in order to hide her excitement. She remembered making that particular request a week ago. To produce it in such a short time was proof of the benefits allying with Project Freelancer.

"Is that it?" she asked.

"But of course," Florida chuckled, examining the small device "Programmed as you instructed down to the base code. We even put in the insignia you wanted. All I need to do is upload it into your mobile scroll," the blue freelancer stuck out his arm, "If you please."

Cinder eyed the empty hand, refusing to remove her gaze as she grabbed the requested item atop her desk. She flopped the scroll into his palm as her own personal way of defiance and a reminder that she was still the one in charge.

"Thank you," Florida attached the drive into the device's charging port.

Thankfully the process wasn't very long as the two waited patiently for the program to upload. When completed, Project Freelancer's liaison held out the device which Cinder was to take back. However she quickly realized that the blue freelancer refused to release his end.

"What. Are you doing?" Cinder threatened with a step forward, pulling her scroll closer to herself.

Agent Florida slowly tugged his end back, "My superiors–the Director specifically–felt….'reluctant' with giving something so powerful to someone who doesn't like to share."

"A bit late choosing to back out," the dust witch's eyes glowed as she inched closer.

"They were thinking it," the blue freelancer did the same, "But I argued we could come to a sort of compromise."

Cinder tightened her lips into a fictitious smile, "Which is?"

"Equal access," was the answer he gave, "We'll see what you see; but you can do what you want and we can do the same."

"No interference?"

"'As long as this alliance benefits the both of us'," Florida replied in a strange accent, causing Cinder to glare at him, "His words, not mine."

Basically: as long as you don't get in our way, we won't get in yours. The deal was simple enough. She would still have control of an asset that would be useful to her future plans. Plus her allies still get the support they need to continue operating.

"Very well then," Cinder sighed, "Anything else?"

"The Director wants me to be there when you plan to upload it," Florida's head cocked, "At the CCT I believe."

The dust witch narrowed her eyes, not wanting to be intimidated, "Are you asking to accompany me on the night of the dance?"

"Unless you're already spoken for."

She couldn't help but smirk, "Actually, I was planning to go with friends this Sunday. But I don't plan to see them until midnight."

Florida tilted his head closer, "Then they won't mind me having the first dance."

Cinder did the same, her breath fogging a small part of his visor as she rasped another threat, "...You better not step on my toes."

For a brief moment, she thought she saw a smile from under his bulletproof helmet, "I can be very graceful."

"Then we're in agreement," Cinder finally pulled the scroll to her side.

"Happily," Florida stepped back while making his way to the window, "If you would excuse me….I have another meeting."

The dust witch nodded in understanding, turning her back to him as she studied the scroll in her hand.

"Before I go, if you don't mind me asking," she looked at the image of his reflection in the mirror sitting on the windowsill, "Why a queen?"

"...Why so curious?" she glanced over her shoulder.

"People say I'm a rook," Florida shrugged, "Although others say I'm more of a bishop. You?"

Cinder turned towards the mirror, gazing at her reflection with the freelancer's in her peripheral, "...Power."

"Ho ho~?" the blue freelancer cooed, as if he was satisfied with such a vague explanation, "Well then, until tomorrow."

* * *

 **Vale: Commercial District...**

When you have spent your entire life in a country that cut itself off from the rest of the world, naturally things on the outside will seem strange. Yet out of all the big four, Vale was probably the only kingdom so far that slightly resembled Gulch. Granted the architecture was different in some areas and the use of hard-light barriers on highways wasn't exactly safe in his book. However the food here was like what he used to eat whenever he went to Seattle: burgers, hot dogs, milkshakes, they were all there. But even then, there were a couple things to Wash that appeared….strange. One of which was right in front of him.

Originally he was planning to go back to Beacon and prepare the ballroom for the dance as intended, but then Pyrrha suggested that they eat some "crepes". At first he thought of turning down her request, out of hesitation of eating something he didn't know, but then quickly figured this would be one of those "rebuilding-bridges" moments Epsilon talked about. Though Pyrrha didn't look the vengeful type, having Yang avoid him was bad enough, and plus they were dancing around each other most of the afternoon. So he agreed and she took him to a park not far from the outlet mall.

The place was one of those hillside areas that followed the ideal of nature being the true playground. Big enough for kids to play on the grass, dirt paths for the adults to jog on, plus a view of the city and ocean while you sit on a bench and eat a snack. Either alone or with a friend(currently the latter). Pyrrha, meanwhile, was at one of the food trucks outlining the parking lot like a miniature festival. It's design was a mix of bright colors similar to that of candies with a portable display of what they served in fake food format.

Wash had no idea what a "crepe" was so he could only go off what he saw. If he were to describe it to someone, he would say it looked like a thin pancake wrapped around different foods. At first he thought it was some sort of treat from the variety they sold. Some had bananas, strawberries, and custard as the filling while another was composed of four different flavors of ice cream and berries. Then there were the combinations that had meats and vegetables; things you usually don't eat with a pancake. Maybe he should have waited with Pyrrha instead of taking up her offer of letting her choose. But he didn't, and now here he was, sitting on a bench.

"I'm sorry for the wait!" Pyrrha jogged to him with items in hand, "The line was longer than expected."

"It's no problem," Wash assured her, "I should be sorry that you had to order for both us. I'll pay you back for my share later."

"Nonsense," the celebrity huntress shook her head as she took the seat next to him, "I usually don't get to treat someone often and they didn't cost much. Here," she handed the one item in her hand, "I got you something simple since you never had these before."

Wash accepted the offer and unwrapped his crepe. He could see the bananas and strawberries accompanied with the yellow custard, laced with chocolate syrup. There was sweet smell emitting from both fruits with a hint of sugar.

Pyrrha immediately noticed his hesitant reaction, as if he were waiting in anticipation, "Well? Aren't you going try it?"

The huntsman-trainee tightened his lips before opening his jaws at the corner. His teeth dug through the crepe until he sliced through some of the fruits. He recognized the texture of the bananas mixing with the smooth custard, but with the tanginess from the strawberries plus little bits of chocolate.

"This…," Wash answered between chews, "This is pretty good."

"I'm glad to hear it," Pyrrha smiled as she unwrapped her crepe.

The ex-freelancer's eyes widened when he saw how drastically different both their orders were. He recognized the fruits similar to his; but then there were also blueberries, mangos, whip cream, and everything laced with some pink syrup. Add the medium-size soda and the celebrity huntress was eating more than a snack.

" _Hehehe, wow~,_ " Epsilon chuckled at the amount of food, " _The girl sure can eat a lot. I never would have pegged Pyrrha to be the glutton-type._ "

Wash thought back to their times in the cafeteria, " _Her servings were slightly larger than most of her teammates. Not as much as Nora though._ "

The sapphire fragment laughed, " _Yeah, remember how many pancakes she inhaled at breakfast?_ "

"Now that's something I can't unsee," Wash mumbled before taking another bite from his crepe.

"Hmm?" Pyrrha's eyebrows perked mid-chew, "Did you say something?"

"N-Nothing!" The ex-freelancer replied with a full mouth, "I just–well–never knew that you had such an appetite."

The celebrity huntress glanced down at her crepe, realizing how much more she had than her compatriot, "Oh, I see."

"I'm not judging or anything-."

"No, it's fine," Pyrrha assured him, "Back when I was training for tournaments, I was told by my trainers and sponsors to watch what I eat. They didn't want me to risk 'ruining my figure'."

"But now that you're training to become a huntress, you can eat as much as you want," Wash smirked with a cheek full of his crepe.

The former-celebrity laughed, "You'd be surprised how many calories you can burn from killing Grimm."

"True," the ex-freelancer nodded, "Though in the physical activities department, I'm probably burning more from all the sparring sessions with Yang."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Definitely. And here I thought before then that sparring with Carolina was exhausting," the ex-freelancer expressed a strained smirk, "Though as things stand, we probably won't be training as much."

Pyrrha tilted her head with a quizzical look, "Speaking of Yang, is something the matter? Lately she seems….easily irritated."

Wash swallowed before leaning back with a frustrated sigh, "She and I had a….falling out, I guess? No, it's not that serious, but she still won't talk to me."

"Is it because of her motorbike?" Pyrrha suggested.

The huntsman-trainee raised a brow at her deduction, "How'd you know?"

"I saw her look through a magazine for motorcycles the other day," the celebrity huntress explained, "She appeared rather troubled while reading through the parts section. Even more so when she saw the prices."

Wash groaned as he massaged his eyes under his sunglasses. He never realized how much that bike meant to her. It was either amazing or a miracle that it was able to take them back to campus. Now it would take weeks until it was back to the way it was before.

"I never realized how much that thing meant to her."

Pyrrha absentmindedly played with her paper wrapping, "I may not know the story behind her bond with her bike, but if Yang has gone so far as to name it, then it's no surprise how much it means to her. Wouldn't you be upset if something important to you was damaged?"

Wash rubbed the bill of his military-cap between his fingers, "I wouldn't go as far as to name something….but yes….I'd probably feel the same way."

Once again there was that feeling of melancholy. Suddenly he felt the urge to take out the photo he kept under his hat, but he didn't feel ready to reveal that to anyone just yet.

"She gave that to you," the celebrity huntress continued, "Didn't she?"

Again he pinched the bridge of his nose, minus the groan. It seems he really is becoming easier and easier to read these days. He may as well not even try to hide it anymore.

"Yeah."

"I see…," the celebrity glanced back-and-forth between the ex-freelancer and her meal, "Wash, I hope this won't make you uncomfortable, but can I ask you something….personal?"

The huntsman-trainee narrowed his eyes under his sunglasses, "How personal?"

"As I've said, if you don't want to answer I would understand," her eyes carried a serious gaze when she turned to him, "It's just that I worry that my….'resemblance' makes things difficult for you to talk about yourself."

"Well you all pretty much know everything by now," Wash deadpanned through his chewing, "So why bother?"

"Because despite what you think! You're my friend too!" Pyrrha stated rather boldly, "One of the few that I've had growing up. Which means I also worry about your feelings."

The ex-freelancer sighed as he crumpled the wrapper of his now finished crepe, "...All right then, ask away?"

"Are you….," the celebrity-huntress took a deep breath to steel herself, "Are you happy, Wash?"

Wash raised a brow at such an odd question, "Happy?"

"I mean with us?" Pyrrha motioned towards the sole huntsman academy, "You attending Beacon, making friends, training and fighting alongside us, are you….happy with that?"

Wash squeezed the paper wrapper in his palm to the point he felt it digging through his skin. He never thought he would be in this very situation again. One where he couldn't really find an answer. So he reacted the same way he did before.

"Yeah," the ex-freelancer expressed a tight-lipped smile, "Of course I am."

The look on her face clearly showed that she wasn't convinced, "Is that really true? I know I may not be as close to you as Yang, but I feel-."

"Look, Pyrrha, I know….," Wash stared at Beacon academy in the distance as he gathered his thoughts, "I know I may not show it, but I honestly do like being here. It's just…."

The celebrity huntress moved in closer, "Just?"

"It's just that I'm not used to….being around people my age. I usually spent more time with adults, and even when I was with other kids I had to act like the responsible one. Right now everything feels….different, I guess."

"I can understand that," Pyrrha traced her thumbs against what was left of her crepe, "For me, it's quite obvious that I tend to act rather formal around people. A result of being constantly reminded of your fame. However now, thanks to Jaune and the others, I'm experiencing more things than I ever have up 'till now."

The ex-freelancer tightened his lips before throwing his waste into the nearby trash-can, "Guess we're both socially awkward."

"Yes, apparently," Pyrrha smiled to herself before taking another bite.

"So….what brought this up?" Wash asked.

"Oh, nothing," the celebrity huntress shrugged innocently, "Just curious."

* * *

Gulch soldiers are trained to wear their armor for an extended period of time. The results of that training make a person see the layers of gel, kevlar, and light alloys as either a second skin or a full-body coffin with arms and legs. Nowadays, Agent Carolina would be counted as the former. However walking around a populated city like Vale in full body armor was obviously going to draw some attention. So of course she had changed into some civilian wear. Yet wearing the clothes provided at the drop-off made her feel "itchy". Not itchy like the silver-colored shirt and dark jeans irritated her skin. Nor how the brown heeled-boots snuggled against her feet. No, this was more a psychological uncomfortable. Project Freelancer's best agent looked over her reflection in the cafe's window, specifically at the cyan leather jacket. Whoever left this for her at the drop-off probably saw it as a joke since it matched her armor color. She turned towards the dog tags wrapped around the rusty lighter standing in front of her. Then again, there was only one person who had a pension for comedy….and he's dead.

The vibrations from the burner-scroll in her pocket forcibly interrupted her melancholy. She had received a notification from Florida, something she had been waiting for all afternoon.

" _Running late. Will meet you at the cafe soon,_ " the blue freelancer's text read, " _Order whatever you want. My treat ;P_ "

Carolina's eye twitched at the sight of winking face. Ever since they were marked as criminals, Agent Florida had been acting more…."casually" despite their situation. Why the Counselor and Director still trust him she will never know. The thought of that worsened her mood than it already was. She had to lightly grip the two mementos to stop herself from shattering her coffee mug. It was times like this that she would sorrowfully remember the times she and York were on stakeout duty for hours on end. Whenever that happened, they would play York's own version of people watching. The first player would pick a random individual or event and would have to guess what the second player would do in the same situation. Then they would reverse roles and so on and so forth.

She would never openly admit it, but York's often outlandish deductions would both offend her yet also make her laugh. If some flirtatious dickwad and his friends tried hitting on her; she'd definitely break their hands, an arm, and/or pelvic bones. A little girl crying after tripping and spilling her ice-cream, the cyan freelancer would "nicely" tell her to suck it up while also buying her a new cone.

Sometimes their little game would evolve into including their fellow agents and hypothesize how they would react. Maine would violently shake a tree in order to rescue the cat stuck in it. Wyoming would attempt to flirt with a woman on a bench with his knock-knock jokes. If South owned a food cart and was confronted with a rude customer, she'd smash the tip jar into their face. North and his old fashioned manners would make him the obvious choice to help an old lady cross the street.

The more Carolina thought about their little game, the harder she stared at the two mementos. Her thumb would repeatedly flip open-and-close the cap just to hear that signature metallic click. Carolina took one look at her surroundings as she decided to play their game for old times sake. She couldn't help but wonder what they would do if they were on foreign soil.

"I'm sorry madam," a hand swiped away what was in her palm, "But this is a non-smoking area."

The cyan freelancer snapped towards whoever dared to take what was hers. Though the combination of the sunlight and the driver's cap atop his ahead covered his eyes, it was his ability to seemingly appear out of nowhere that exposed who he was. Granted every freelancer agent learned how to do their little disappearing trick, but only a handful could use it to both retreat _and_ infiltrate. Yet their was one who did it more often than most.

"Give them back Florida," Carolina glared at the Director's most trusted agent.

Naturally the fellow freelancer was in civilian garb rather than in his usual armor set. His own protective layers were now replaced with a turquoise button up shirt rolled up to his elbows and his grenade belt traded-off for a pair of straps holding up his gray slacks. Though, from the rare moments she saw back on the ship, he kept his brown hair tied into a short pony tail like herself.

"Now isn't that a look that could kill," the blue freelancer examined the lighter and dog tags, "And all over some little knick-knacks."

The red-haired agent gripped his forearm tightly with a growl, "I said. Give. Them. Back."

Florida replied with his usual blank stares, only without the helmet you could clearly see his smirk, "...Now now. No need to start a tussle."

He placed them perfectly next to her cup as he took her table's opposite seat, "After all, unnecessary attention can be such a bother in our current position."

"You call me into a heavily-civilian-populated city that has an Atlas & Gulch fleet right next door, then you have me wait at this cafe long enough to risk being spotted, and now you show up putting me more in a very bad mood," Carolina leaned forward onto her elbows as she reached the epitome of her torment, "So whatever you're about to say next had better be worth risking me ramming my fist up your-."

"So how goes the hunt?" Florida asked as he read through the menu.

The cyan freelancer narrowed her eyes, deciding to lean back into her seat, "You seriously called me out here for a status report? We could have easily done this over a secure channel."

"True," Florida shrugged, "But then again, what's wrong with having a lunch among friends."

Carolina raised a skeptical brow, "Since when were we friends?"

"Didn't we serve in the same unit?" The blue freelancer eyed her over his menu.

" _Pff~_ ," she mockingly sneered at the assumption, "Funny. I don't remember you spending so much time with us in the mess."

"You may have a point there," Florida once again shrugged with no offense taken, "The Director did always keep me so very busy."

"Well you are his most trusted agent," Carolina sarcastically replied.

"And Texas," Florida added, "Once upon a time…."

The sound of Carolina huffing at even the mention of the rogue freelancer had grown to be a habit of hers. She was the one responsible for all that's happened thus far, along with ruining her life.

Florida smiled behind his menu before waving towards the young waitress, "Excuse me, miss? I'll have a espresso please."

"Look, as much fun as it may be taking me down memory lane, let's keep this professional," Carolina took the tags and lighter away from her supposed "friend", "To answer your question, I heard reports of a motorcycle that resembled a certain two-wheeled mongoose driving into town one day."

"Most likely Texas," Florida came to the same conclusion, "Do you know the reason why?"

The cyan freelancer reluctantly grumbled in defeat, "No. She left the same day she arrived. Whatever business she had here she most likely finished by the time I got here."

"A shame," Florida sighed, "Did you have any ideas why she was here? A theory perhaps."

The waitress then returned with the order, "Your espresso sir."

"Why thank you miss," the blue freelancer expressed a smile that made the young lady blush.

"Who knows," Carolina crossed her arms in disgust, "She's probably taking up work as a mercenary for all we know. Even back on the Mother of Invention she'd do anything if you paid her enough."

Florida yelped when he took a sip from his hot drink, "Yeea-ouch! That was harsher than expected."

"Florida!" Carolina growled.

"Yes-yes," the highly social agent waved off her anger, "Texas did like money. How else did she pay for that customized mongoose of hers. And the Meta? How's his trail?"

"He's surprisingly harder to track," the cyan freelancer shook her head, "I did hear reports from campers in this place called the 'Forever Fall'. They said they heard Grimm howling in pain and even something like bones breaking. Apparently someone got a picture and posted it online. But it's complete shit."

"That appears to match with our findings," Florida slowly mixed his drink, "Our intel shows that Grimm activity has been on the rise in the region. Maine was a rather violent individual, it shouldn't be surprising that they are drawn to him. He always loved when he was let off the leash."

"So it's settled then," Carolina's posture straightened in her chair, "I'll go to the Forever Fall and bring Maine in."

"Woah there kiddo~," Florida motioned her to to calm herself, "As nice as it is to see you motivated, there's also the packs of Grimm that stand between you and your goal."

The cyan freelancer frowned, "I've been through worse."

"With a team," Florida added, "But by yourself….you will be in quite the pickle."

"I'll manage," Carolina crossed her arms once again, "I always have."

The rather prideful agent could list the times she made it through hell and back. She was the project's best agent after all. Both then and now.

"And I have no doubt," the blue freelancer produced a folded paper from his breast pocket, "But why don't we ensure that the odds are in your favor."

Carolina unfolded the sheet and read the address written on it, "A safe-house?"

Florida nodded at the correct answer, "Thanks to our current 'partnership', we were able to access certain technologies to develop a new suit," he took a quick sip from his espresso, "One the Director wishes to give to you."

Carolina's eyes widened at the sudden gesture. An entirely new set of armor just for her. Her mind raced through the kind of upgrades that await her. It may even make her as strong as the Meta. And finally give her an advantage over her real target.

But then the gears of logic began to turn, and she frowned at the work that went on behind the scenes.

"I don't like it," she replied blatantly.

Florida tilted his head, clearly taken aback and confused, "Wait, what?"

"Don't misunderstand me, I'll gladly use this armor to the fullest," Carolina stared out toward the street, watching the people walk by completely unknown to the disguised fugitives, "But this so called partnership with this mysterious benefactor, working with criminals, isn't this the very thing we were accused of back in Gulch?"

The blue freelancer was surprisingly silent as he leaned forward onto his intertwined fingers, "I know this really puts us in a rather bad light, but all this is a necessary evil in order to prove our innocence. You... _We'll_ just have to bear with it."

"Yeah," Carolina continued to stare out into space, refusing to make eye contact, "But for how long?"

Florida didn't say anything, deciding to follow the cyan freelancer's gaze.

"...You see that restaurant over there," he pointed with his chin, "The one where they serve noodles in those ridiculously large bowls."

The slight shift in her eyes showed that he caught her attention.

"York would be chatting with the old man at the bar. He's probably the owner. York is asking for whatever catches his eye while probably buttering up the elderly man for a discount. He always did have a way with words."

Carolina uncomfortably re-adjusted her jaw, "How would you-!?"

"Wash would be there too, albeit reluctantly most likely. He'd try to figure out what he should order yet has no idea what any of them will taste like. But then York points out something on the menu, saying it looks delicious while in fact it's most likely something spicy."

"Florida-," the cyan freelancer prepared a threat.

"Wash screeches at the burning sensation, desperately drinking his water while York laughs at another successful prank. The kid glares at him and York says it was all in good fun. That's how I think it would play out. Don't you think?"

"Stop!" Carolina quietly growled as she pictured the entire scene, "Just. Stop."

"...I know it sounds impossible to clear our names," Florida stared into his drink, "But think of the ones we've lost….and what the people say about them. Besmirching their efforts and everything they've sacrificed by calling them criminals and traitors. Is that how they should be remembered?"

No more convincing was needed as Carolina launched herself from her chair, hands balled into fists.

"Someone needs to set the record straight."

"Fine, I'll go," the newly motivated agent turned away.

"Thank you," Florida blew into the steam in order to cool his drink, "Once you get there, we're going to have you run some tests. Just to make sure everything is working properly. Don't worry, it won't take long and you'll be free to go."

Carolina only stood there as she processed everything she was told, "...You know whenever York and I played that game, we sometimes thought of the others in the unit and how they'd act," she glanced back at the blue freelancer, "But we could never think of anything for you."

"It's understandable," Florida simply swirled what was left of his espresso around before speaking, "Let's just say life didn't give me many chances to enjoy it."

Carolina took that as a sign that their business has concluded. She began marching with a new sense of purpose towards the safe-house. When he was finally by himself, Florida pulled out his own scroll and made a call on his speed-dial.

"It's me sir," the blue freelancer answered when it connected, "She's on her way now."

" _Excellent,_ " the Director replied, " _Is she still driven enough to complete her mission?_ "

"I said what you told me to say and she reacted as you predicted."

" _I expected as much,_ " the blue freelancer felt as if the man was smiling on the other end, " _Another job well done._ "

"Sir," Florida accepted the compliment, but had something else to discuss, "I know this isn't exactly a secure channel, but permission to speak freely?"

" _Normally I would deny such a request,_ " the Director grumbled, " _But the Counselor and I trust you enough to hear your opinions. Permission granted._ "

"Thank you sir," the man's most trusted agent gripped his scroll cautiously, "With everything you've asked me to do: sending Locus by himself to Mt. Glenn, giving him the HVT list, manipulating Carolina's grief in order to continue her one-woman manhunt. I question the necessity for such manipulation?"

The Director was silent before he released a surprisingly brief chuckle, " _Well if that was what you were concerned about Agent Florida, then allow me to use one of the many lines you've said. You've planted the necessary seeds, now we wait for them sprout...and harvest whatever bears fruit._ "

"...I see sir," the blue freelancer finished his drink with a smirk, "Thank you for clarifying my confusion."

" _Will that be all agent?_ "

"Yes sir. I'll contact you after the Sunday operation at 02:00."

Florida ended the call, quickly realizing that his cup was now completely empty.

He then waved to the same waitress who served him his order, "Check please."

* * *

 **For those of you who are curious, I have based Florida's appearance off of the artwork found on the RvB wiki. Let me know what you think of the Director's most trusted agent: should he be a full on villain or do we want a dark anti-hero? Or do you just want me to kill him off?**

 **GaryOkampo logging off...**

 **[CONNECTION TERMINATED]**


End file.
